

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Chap*;^... 


No. 


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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






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THE JUGGERNAUT 


/ 


OF THE MODERNS 

A NO VEL 

ROSA HUDSPETH 

II 


“When the world shall have grown ripe for it, in heaven’s own 
time, a new truth will be revealed, in order to establish the whole 
relation between men and women on a surer ground of mutual happi* 
ness .” — The Scarlet Letter 


“When God formed worlds he failed to make 
A path for erring feet to take 
Back into light and peace again, 

Unless they were the feet of men.” 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox 



BOSTON 




OCT 1 

% 

r fit 


1 ' ' 


■TO I 


ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 


COPLEY SQUARE 
1896 



t 

1 





COPYRIGHT, 1896, 

By ROSA HUDSPETH . 

AI,!. RIGHTS RESERVED. 


TH. ' 


ARENA PRESS. 


DEDICATED 


TO 

LUCY M. BUSENBARK, M. D., 

MY BEST friend: 

A woman whose knowledge of life has taught 
her a noble generosity ^ and a Christ-like jtisHce 
which takes no cognizance of sex or caste ; a woman 
brave, broad-minded and pure, who recognizes but 
one stafidard of morals for women and for 7nen, 
in practice as in theory ; a woma^i who is 7iot 
afraid to sfeak to or to aid a fellow-sister upon ivhose 
brow the world has set its seal of co7idemnation. 




PREFACE. 


If the following story does not teach 
men a lesson in self-control and women a 
finer sense of justice toward their fellow- 
women, it will fail in its mission. 

ROSA HUDSPETH. 


Des Moines, Ia., 1896. 




Ube JuGoernaut of 

tbe fB>obern8. 

CHAPTER I. 

After the fashion of all Western towns 
which suddenly spring into existence on 
the plains, Buffalo City lay scattered over 
a wide stretch of land. Main Street, 
which ran zigzag north and south, was bor- 
dered on either side by a motley collection 
of stone buildings and dwelling houses, di- 
versified now and then by a one-story struc- 
ture built in the style of an old-fashioned 
farmhouse. Here and there a large brick 
building stood out in bold contrast with the 
sheds standing near by. 

A queer vehicle, constructed like a dros- 
ky, and drawn by a team of lank mules, 


2 Xlbc juggernaut of tbe /Bboberns. 

moved slowly up the sandy road. A cow- 
boy, his wide hat set daringly upon his 
head, a red handkerchief tied in a four-in- 
hand knot about his neck, rode wildly 
through the streets, spurring and whipping 
his horse as if he were on the range in pur- 
suit of some vicious animal. Down Main 
Street idly along with the crowd moved 
a group of Indians. Conspicuous among 
them was an old chief, dressed in a 
navy-blue uniform trimmed with yellow 
buttons; in his hatband he wore a bright 
tuft of feathers; holding above his head 
a child’s parasol made of red silk and 
bordered with lace, he pushed his way 
along with the warlike tread of a Doug- 
las. Behind him came a squaw, her 
shawl thrown around her shoulders, form- 
ing a sort of basket for her papoose. In 
her arms, wrapped loosely in a piece of can- 
vas, she carried the shoulder of a mutton; 
to her right foot, was attached by a string a 
little Indian girl about three years of age. 


C:bc Juggernaut of tbe /iBoberns. 3 

Pulling at the string with a satisfied air she 
trudged on, while her liege master held his 
parasol above his head, glancing anon at 
his own reflection in the show windows and 
smoking vigorously at a long brass-mounted 
meerschaum. 

In every direction rolled miles and miles 
of prairie land. An occasional shanty or 
sod house rose half palpably in the distance. 
Away off through the shimmer in the clear 
air lay a line of hills which grew slowly 
into a chain of mountains. These were the 
famous Black Hills, and Buffalo City lies 
in that portion of the country known as the 
Sand Hills. 

It was on Main Street, at the close 
of the “ eighties,” that a young woman 
pressed through this throng with the bearing 
of one not accustomed to Western scenes. 
She was dressed in a suit of black broad- 
cloth, made in the prevailing style. A little 
turban, set jauntily upon her head, was 
held in place by a black veil with big red 


4 Zbc juggernaut of tbc /iboberns. 

dots. She walked along, the cynosure of 
all eyes. Men on the street stopped talking 
to look after her and ask questions; dapper 
young clerks left their counters and haz- 
arded many opinions concerning her iden- 
tit}’. Every now and then from some show 
window the curtain was deftly drawn aside 
although no hand or eye was visible. In 
the eyes of the Buffalo residents she rep- 
resented the wealthy and aristocratic popu- 
lation of some metropolis in the East. But 
one used to the world and its ways would 
have guessed, by the poise of her head and 
the quick, energetic swing of her steps, that 
she was one of that constantly increasing 
class now known as self-sustaining women. 
She might be a clerk, a teacher, or a dress- 
maker. 

Going into a large bank which stood on 
a corner, she stepped up to a gentleman 
whose appearance indicated that his posi- 
tion in the establishment was not a subor- 
dinate one. He was small, sleek and aris- 


XLbe Juggernaut of tbc ^o&erns. s 

tocratic looking. A dark beard gave to his 
face, which was already pale, an unusual 
pallor, and at the same time increased the 
lustre of his eyes, which were blue and 
deep-set. Dark semicircles below, and 
dark brows above, made the eyes, though 
really long and narrow, seem large and 
heavy. 

“ May I trouble you to tell me where I 
can find the office of Bitsell & Harland?” 
she queried, blushing under the scrutiny of 
the gentleman with the dark brows. 

“ Certainly,” returned the man, reaching 
for his hat and nearly losing his balance in 
his efforts to appear polite, “ come this way 
please.” Stepping out into the street he 
pointed to a door and said: 

“ Take the first door to the right at the 
head of the stairs. Is there anything fur- 
ther that I can do for you ? You are evi- 
dently a stranger here and, if I can be of 
service to you, it will afford me great pleas- 
ure, I assure you. I am Mr. McAnnulty, 


6 Ubc Juggernaut of tbc /Dboberns. 

president of the First National Bank of this 
place.” 

He lifted his hat and bowed very low. 

The girl acknowledged this introduction 
by a slight inclination of the head and, 
muttering a confused Thank you,” she 
turned in the direction indicated. The 
banker stood regarding her with interest, 
until she reached the top of the stairs. 

There a large sign, “ Bitsell & Harland,” 
promised that a turn of the doorknob would 
bring her into the office of these gentle- 
men. 

As she entered a tall man with a smooth, 
effeminate face, arose and came toward 
her. 

“ Good-afternoon, madam,” he said bow- 
ing with professional dignity and placing a 
chair before her. 

“Are you Judge Bitsell.^” she asked, seat- 
ing herself and noting that the gentleman 
before her bore himself with an air of dis- 
tinction. She observed also that his chin 
was marked by a deep dimple. 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbc /iBoOcrns. 7 

“No,” replied the man, “I am Harland, 
Bitsell’s partner. Did you want to see him 
personally ? If not, I represent the firm. 
What can I do for you ? ” 

He took in at a glance the soft curves of 
his visitor’s neck and the evident look of 
refinement. 

“ I — yes — I wrote you some time ago, 
perhaps you will remember — about a posi- 
tion as stenographer. My name is Cather- 
ine Huntley.” 

A modest blush crept over her cheeks 
and her tones were full of embarrassment. 
Harland was indeed surprised, for he had 
at first sight supposed her to be a client of 
means and position. He now looked at her 
critically, his manner evincing more than 
ordinary interest. 

“ Ah, yes. Miss Huntley; I remember 
we received your letter some time ago. It 
is as we told you. There is no stenog- 
rapher in Buffalo, except the court reporter 
and a young fellow who, I believe, is 


8 XLbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oOerns. 

perfecting himself in the study of short- 
hand and typewriting. There is no one 
firm here that could afford to employ a reg- 
ular office assistant, but, taken collectively, 
the attorneys all have at different times 
more or less of such work. As we re- 
marked, you might in time work up a con- 
siderable practice, if you understand your 
business pretty well.” 

“ I — I have never worked in an office, 
Mr. Harland,” she said, “ and for a time I 
should be willing to work for the practice 
I should get in speed and accuracy. 
Couldn’t I make some arrangement with 
your firm to that effect ? ” 

After some minutes, during which Har- 
land had carefully studied the general make- 
up of the girl before him, he asked: 

“Where are you from. Miss Huntley? I 
have forgotten the name of the place ; some- 
where in Ohio, I believe?” 

“ My home is in Maitland, Ohio, if I can 
now be said to have a home. My mother 


tibe Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 9 

died a year ago and, before her death, I held 
a position in the public schools. I have 
since taken a course in business, making a 
specialty of bookkeeping and stenography, 
but I was forced to leave school before I 
finished on account of my health.” 

“ Have you relatives or friends in Buffalo, 
Miss Huntley.^” 

“I have no relatives; that is, no near 
relatives that I know anything about. But 
I have a friend here who married a few 
years ago and removed to the West. Her 
husband is Mr. Willis Bennett; he is an 
engineer on the B. & M. Possibly you know 
him.” 

“Mr. Bennett.^ Ah yes, he is a member 
of our lodge. His wife is a tall dignified 
woman, quite remarkable for her beauty. 
So I presume you will live with them.?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Every bit of sympathy in Harland’s nature 
sprang into activity, as he thought of a being 
so young and charming struggling alone and 


lo Cbc juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 

unaided amid the fierce competition of 
hardened men and women of the world. 
He wanted then and there to pledge her his 
undying loyalty and friendship, but aloud he 
said: 

“You are a long way from home, Miss 
Huntley, and — and-you would find much 
more work in your line in the city, wouldn’t 
you?” 

She hesitated before she spoke: 

“Yes, I should; but my health is never 
good. I cannot stand the dust and smoke and 
stuffy air of the city. Besides, the cities are 
overcrowded now with stenographers and 
typewriters who must work, if they work at 
all, for a mere pittance. Then caste places 
restrictions on girls who work, which is 
annoying to one with a good deal of pride and 
spirit. I want freedom and fresh air, and I 
can get neither in the city.” 

The lawyer’s interest in the young stranger 
before him knew no bounds. Her ways and 
words had charmed him, until he was on the 


Cbe juggernaut ot tbc /Hboberns. 


II 


point of offering her a position without 
further inquiry. But at this point a man of 
sedate manners, wearing a heavy mustache, 
sauntered in with an air of easy familiarity. 
His hat covering the upper portion of his 
head, there was something peculiarly dis- 
tinguished in his general appearance; but on 
removing that article of apparel, he exposed 
a forehead narrow and receding. 

At his entrance Harland arose and in a 
dignified way said : 

“This is Judge Bitsell; judge, let me in- 
troduce you to Miss Huntley. She is the 
young lady from Ohio who wrote us some 
time ago regarding a position as stenog- 
rapher. She thinks she’d like to help us 
in the office till she gets the run of the work. 
What do you think about it.^ Don’t you 
think we need some one.^” 

Bitsell had acquired the title of judge 
some years before on being elected to the 
office of county judge, which position is 
the next step above that of justice of the 


12 


Zbc 5uGGernaut of tbe /DboOcrns. 


peace. He was now engaged principally in 
the practice of law and the buying and sell- 
ing of real estate. His eyes, which were 
grey and penetrating, moved at one swift 
glance from the feathers in Miss Huntley’s 
hat to the tip of her neatly booted foot. 

“Well, yes; we are in need of such ser- 
vices at times. Until quite recently we have 
had a stenographer, a young man from 
Omaha, who had charge of our clerical 
work, but owing to three successive failures 
in crops, we were obliged to dispense with 
his services. So times are a little hard just 
now, and we cannot afford to pay any fancy 
prices.” 

There was a ring of business in the tone 
which made Catherine wince. Harland 
moved uneasily in his chair and cleared his 
throat several times. 

“ Oh,” said Catherine apologetically, “ I 
have never worked in an office; but I can 
write shorthand quite readily, and for a 
while I would be willing to g'tve you my 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /IboOcrns. 


13 


work, until I have learned the duties of an 
office assistant and have become familiar 
with the terms of law.” 

“ All right,” rejoined Bitsell getting up, 
and making a mental note of the sheen in 
her hair and the red in her cheeks. “ But 
by having a lady in the office we shall en- 
counter some disadvantages, which we had 
better consider first. > Men in this country 
don’t like to do business in the presence of 
a typewriter. We have no room which 
might be used for a private secretary, and if 
we employ Miss Huntley we shall have to 
make some arrangements to keep her hid. 
Some clients would rush away in absolute 
horror at the sight of a woman’s face be- 
hind a typewriter.” 

They all laughed at this and Bitsell, after 
placing his hat on his head and putting his 
right forefinger horizontally across his left 
forefinger, said : 

“ I leave the matter entirely with you and 
Miss Huntley, flarland. You can doubt- 


14 ^bc juggernaut of tbc /Hbobcrns. 

less come to some suitable arrangement. 
Am very busy and must meet a fellow at 
the courthouse at three.” 

Bitsell gone, Harland wheeled his chair 
around and asked: 

“ Will you take a dictation from me now, 
Miss Huntley ? In that way we can get 
a better idea of what we can do. You use 
the Remington, I suppose ? ” 

He rose, opened the machine, and laid a 
piece of paper on the desk. Catherine re- 
moved her gloves and took the seat he had 
prepared for her. 

“ I can write barely one hundred words 
per minute, Mr. Harland, and it may be 
necessary for me to ask you to adapt your 
dictation to my rate of speed.” 

She smiled sweetly and three little flecks 
of gold glistened in her front teeth. 

“Certainly, certainly. Miss Huntley; if 
at any time you find you cannot keep up 
with me, I shall be most happy to speak 
more slowly. You will find me a most ac- 
commodating taskmaster, I dare say.” 


Jibe Juggernaut of tbc /Hboberns. 15 

While speaking he had sharpened a pen- 
cil into a long point which he made nearly 
as sharp as a needle. Then seating him- 
self near her side, he dictated a letter 
couched in didactic phrases to some gen- 
tleman in the East, wherein he extolled the 
natural resources of the country and 
offered for sale four quarter-sections of 
Western land, bearing an aggregate encum- 
brance of three thousand dollars. 

The letter written, Harland, who had sta- 
tioned himself at an angle where he could 
study her without her knowing it, took the 
work and glancing over the page observed : 

“ What would you be willing to work 
for. Miss Huntley, to begin with ? That 
is—” 

“ Oh ! ” she interrupted, “ I would rather 
not talk of the financial part until I am ac- 
customed to the work. You see, I have 
never worked in an office and I know noth- 
ing of clerical work, and the practical ap- 
plication of shorthand and typewriting. I 


i6 Zbc 5uggernaut of tbe /llboberns. 

would rather see what I can do before bind- 
ing myself to a bargain.” 

There was something at once so business- 
like and yet so feminine in this statement, 
that Harland could hardly restrain himself 
from making some wild avowal of his 
admiration. 

Catherine, rising, pulled on her gloves 
and said: 

“When may I come, Mr. Harland?” 

“To-morrow morning,” he responded, 
getting up and following her to the door. 
At the threshold she met Bitsell, who lifted 
his hat and passed into the office. 

Harland went to the window and, throw- 
ing it open, leaned out over the casing and 
called to Bitsell: 

“ Come here, judge. By jove ! there’s the 
finest-looking girl that ever set foot in this 
country. Say, what do you think of her any 
way?” 

Bitsell looked out over Harland’s shoulder 
and eyed her for some seconds. 


ZTbc Juggernaut of tbc /Iboberne. 17 

“ She has a fine figure and an elegant car- 
riage. Look at the flex and the breadth of 
her hips, and see how she holds her should- 
ers. vSay, did you notice her eyes in par- 
ticular? There’s something back of the 
outer expression that I could hardly make 
out. They are very queer eyes in shape and 
expression — the kind that could make a fel- 
low’s head get dizzy and his blood run hot, 
you know. She has a fine complexion, too. 
By jove! some of these Western duffers’ll 
suffer in the flesh. And you are not the 
sort of fellow to have a Hebe like that at 
your side from morning till night! If we 
have got to have some one in the office, 
we’d better get a girl with a homely face 
and scraggy form, or else get that young 
man at Norton & Wilson’s. You never did 
have sense enough to refuse a woman any- 
thing, if she smiled on you or had a pretty 
form.” 

Catherine’s hair, a peculiar shade of brown, 
was coiled in a loose knot which, in the rays 


i8 ^be Juggernaut of tbc /llboberns. 

of the sun, shimmered and glinted like a 
huge nugget of gold. 

Harland, ignoring Bitsell’s last remark, 
broke in with: 

“What color do you call that hair?” 

“I’d call it sorrel, as the sun strikes it 
now; I thought when she first came in, it 
was brown. It’s fine any way. Should 
think she’d be after a husband instead of a 
position in an office. She’s probably after 
both.” 

Bitsell looked critically around the room. 

“ If we are going to have a woman in here, 
we have got to clean up. Take that spit- 
toon out, and carry the ashes down stairs, 
and get a man up here to wash the win- 
dows and scrub the floor.” 

“Darn it all,” said Harland in a tone of 
regret, “ if she don’t leave the office as Mrs. 
Judge Bitsell, I’ll miss my guess! It’s a 
pretty soft snap to be a judge and a widower, 
and have a stenographer like that.” 

“A married man with half-a-dozen child- 


XLbc juggernaut of tbe fllboOerns. 19 

ren can sometimes walk all around a 
widower,” returned Bitsell cynically. “ Girls 
in general don’t take up with me; am too 
blunt, not devilish enough to suit ’em, I sup- 
pose.” 

As Catherine turned a corner, the wind 
lifted her skirts and both men bent forward 
simultaneously. 

“What an ankle!” cried Harland excitedly. 
“Blast the fashion that hides a curve like 
that! What is there any way, judge, more 
immoral about a woman’s ankle than her 
face, or the ankle of a man?” 

“Pshaw!” rejoined the judge, “it’s the 
same inconsistency that is seen in all hu- 
man affairs. The Moslem women will not 
expose their faces. I dare sa}^ the Moham- 
medan men experience the same sensation 
toward a veiled face that we do toward an 
ankle hidden by trailing skirts. If wom- 
en’s dress were different we shouldn’t be the 
rascals most of us are.” 

“ You are rabid, judge! You had better 


20 


^Tbc 5us0crnaut of tbc ^obcrna. 


not air your opinions in the presence of 
Miss Huntley. If you do, your cake will 
be pretty apt to remain in the dough,” 
interposed Harland. 

Catherine’s form lost to view, the two 
men left the window, Harland going to the 
desk, and Bitsell lighting a cigar. 

“Pooh!” growled Bitsell sotto voce, 
“ we’ll get into a fine mess of it all around, 
if nothing happens to prevent you from ex- 
hibiting your characteristic idiocy. We’d 
better make some arrangements for her to 
work a part of the time for Mrs. Wollese}’. 
The girl is here and has got to be looked after 
by some one. She must have a good deal 
of ambition and adventure about her to 
come out to this country without friends 
or recommendations!” 


Juggernaut of tbc /BboDerns. 


21 


CHAPTER II. 

Catherine attired in a grey princess 
dress buttoned at the side, her hat and veil 
now removed, was handsomer than she had 
been the day before. Her form, round and 
well developed, would have been perfect 
in shape and proportions, had not her 
waist been confined within a limit which 
destroyed the harmony of its outlines. The 
dress, without a wrinkle, covered her full 
and shapely bosom and fell in long, soft 
lines from her hips to the floor. Except 
for the extreme slenderness of her waist, 
she would have been a model for the most 
fastidious sculptor. Her throat, revealed 
by a flaring collar, was soft and white as 
the flesh of an infant; even in her small 
wrists and tapering hands the same fine 
texture was visible. 


22 Zbe juggernaut of tbc /iboOcrns. 

With the manner of one not accustomed 
to meeting strangers, she took her place at 
the desk and proceeded to sharpen a pen- 
cil. Harland’s eyes with a sly and sleepy 
expression rested upon the curves of her 
neck. A slight color suffused her face. 
His admiration was bold and even vulgar. 

“ This is the case of Smith vs. Smith,” 
he began, coming up and standing at the 
back of her chair. “ And, by the way, I 
forgot to ask 3^00 if you object to dicta- 
tions which savor of nastiness ; there are 
some cases which fairl}^ reek with things 
that are not usually talked about between 
men and women. If 3’ou have any prud- 
ish notions regarding such things, sa}’ so 
now, for this is one of them.” 

As she turned her head he thought he 
saw between the lids of her downcast eyes 
a swift glance of something like fear. But 
when she spoke there was no embarrass- 
ment in her tones. 

I shall not object to anything that 


Zhc juggernaut of tbe /llboOerns. 23 

comes as a matter of business. I want to 
fit myself for my work, and I’m not going 
to run away at so little a thing as that! ” 
She placed an emphasis on “matter of 
business” which did not escape him. He 
smiled, fixing his gaze, sly and penetrating, 
on the contour of her chin. 

“ I admire your good sense,” he said, and 
slowly dictated a petition for a divorce in 
which the plaintiff prayed for a separation 
on the ground of adultery. While speaking 
he had moved between her and the window 
and stood studying her face as he would 
some intricate piece of mechanism. 

Finishing, he placed a chair by her side 
and, taking up a number of letters, resumed 
his dictation. Catherine, her eyes upon the 
page before her, was conscious that he had 
moved his chair near enough to bring his 
knee in contact with her own. A slight 
tremor, like that produced by electricity, 
ran through her body. She shifted her 
position and, scorning to take offense where 


24 


^Tbe juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrns. 


it was probably not intended, tried to assume 
an air of utter indifference. But Harland’s 
attitude was unmistakable. He sat silent, 
his eyes heavy with admiration, drinking in 
the fairness of her neck, and the soft out- 
lines of her throat and face. Full of resent- 
ment she revolved in her mind. How shall 
I take him? Ignore his manners entirely, 
or show him that I think him impertinent 
and ungentlemanly ? 

Harland reached across the desk and, in 
doing so, let his hand touch her own with 
the gentlest of pressures. At this juncture 
a large man wearing a silk hat and carrying 
a valise came in and handed Harland a card. 

“You represent the firm of Crowfoot & 
Breckinridge ? I am glad to meet you, Mr. 
Horner; be seated, be seated, pray, and 
make yourself at home.” 

At Horner’s entrance Harland straightened 
up, assuming his professional airs with the 
ease of a contortionist. Until this time 
Catherine had thought that all the gallantry 


TLbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oOcrns. 


25 


and dignity in a man's nature come to the 
surface in the presence of women. Her 
face now burned with humiliation and anger 
as she saw his silly manners give way to 
dignified urbanity and heard his insinuating 
accents assume the deep round tones which 
ordinarily belonged to him. 

“ I came in from Omaha, this morning, to 
see you in regard to some collections which 
the firm sent you about a year ago,” said 
Mr. Horner; and the two men entered 
upon a lengthy conversation concerning 
dates and facts, while Catherine, seeing the 
eyes of Mr. Horner fixed upon her, took up 
a book and absorbed herself in its contents. 

Mr. Horner, meanwhile making use of 
the pauses in the conversation to bestow 
covert glances upon Catherine, divested his 
mind of many witticisms. There was a 
tone in his voice which seemed directed 
particularly toward the stenographer. He 
regaled Harland, who nervously shifted his 
position, with some of the latest stories 


26 Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /llbobcrns. 

told by travelling men. He spoke of the 
advantages and disadvantages of the West 
and, with evident self-admiration, gave a 
bombastic account of his first trip to the 
plains. 

Harland, though all polite attention, 
could not conceal the fact that he was 
bored. At length, with a swaggering air, 
Mr. Horner arose. 

“ I want to borrow your typewriter, Har- 
land; if you’ve no objections. I’d like to 
use her awhile. I’ve got a lot of letters to 
get off by the first mail.” 

He stood before Catherine with a broad 
smile of patronage, but she was so inter- 
ested in her book that she never looked up. 

“ None whatever, my dear sir,” responded 
Harland, “if Miss Huntley does not object.” 

Both men looked toward Catherine, but 
there was nothing in her looks and man- 
ners to indicate that -she had heard what 
the}' were talking about. 

“Very well, very well,” said Mr. Horner, 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /iftoberns. 27 

slightly perturbed. “I’ll take a ramble 
down the street and get some stationery. 
Will be back in about half-an-hour.” 

His tone was full of condescending famil- 
iarity. 

Mr. Horner gone Harland, with an expres- 
sion of mock gravity, bowed and said: 

“Allow me to congratulate you, Miss 
Huntley; allow me to congratulate you.” 

For an instant a look of bewilderment 
came into her face, and then she seemed to 
understand. 

“You have at your feet,” he went on, “so 
to speak, that is, metaphorically speaking, a 
man who at first sight is mashed, mashed 
beyond recovery. He would lay his life at 
your feet, and you never deigned to notice 
it. Why, the poor fellow would die for 
you, if you would but condescend to smile 
on him once. What a conquest!” 

“What do you mean,?” she asked, not 
appearing flattered at his harangue. 

“You don’t pretend to say you didn’t see 


28 Cbc juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 

his glances of admiration, do you? You 
know he gave me all that josh for your 
benefit only.” 

“I never see a thing that I don’t 'want to 
see.” Her voice sounded harsh and curt, 
and her lip curled into a little expression of 
contempt which increased his admiration 
for her a hundred fold. man with his 

breath smelling of whiskey, and who stares 
at a lady because she is in an office, would 
be quite apt to inspire a feeling deeper than 
admiration!” 

Harland edged very close to her, so close 
that she moved back a little. From the 
first he had been struck by the charm of 
her face and figure. Now, to see that she 
possessed a highmindedness far above the 
frivolous girls of her class, placed her at 
once upon the highest pedestal of his es- 
teem. 

“ / don’t swagger; my breath don’t smell 
of whiskey-and-and you refuse to see that 
you have an admirer who — ” 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oDcrns. 


29 


Something in the poise of her head and 
the look of her eye checked him. He 
seemed ashamed of himself, and walked to 
the window and stood gazing down into the 
street for several minutes. Catherine got 
up hastily and, slipping into her wrap, put 
on her bonnet and gloves. 

That done, she came up to Harland’s side 
and bent her face eagerly toward his own. 

“ Mr. Harland,” she faltered, “ you will 
excuse me for an hour, will you not.^ I 
can’t write that man’s letters; indeed, I can 
not:’ 

Her face looked so troubled and child- 
like that for an instant he cringed like a 
criminal. 

‘‘ Most certainly, I will excuse you; most 
certainly. Miss Huntley. That fellow is a 
fool and half-drunk besides. I felt like 
knocking him down and then kicking him 
for falling. But, after all, that’s something 
that you must get used to. I could hardly 
afford to whip all the men who come in 
here and stare at you, because — because 


30 


tlbc juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 


you are a mighty good-looking girl, Miss 
Huntley; and that is all there is of it. 
You can’t blame a fellow for looking at 
you.” 

This last sentence was uttered in a tone 
which she took to be an apology for the 
overtures he had himself made toward her. 
She wondered if she really had been mis- 
taken as to his intentions. Her brain busy 
seeking the correct solution of this problem 
she started toward the door. Just as she 
opened it, Horner stepped in and, seeing her 
attired for the street, he exclaimed: 

“Not going now, my dear girl, are you? 
Why — why, you have not written my letters 
yet, you know.” 

He lifted his hand, bringing it so close 
that she thought he was going to place it 
upon her arm. She stepped back, her 
nostrils white and quivering. Then spring- 
ing past him, she slammed the door with all 
her might and bounded down the steps as if 
she expected Horner to rush out and com- 
pel her to return to the office. 


TLbc Juggernaut of tbe /iRoberns. 31 

“Left, Horner, by Gad!” cried Harland, 
striking his knee and giving vent to a pro- 
longed burst of guttural laughter. 

An expression of defeat hovered around 
the corner of the travelling man’s mouth. 
Then he broke into a hearty laugh. 

“She’s not been around an office very 
long, has she ? She’s a mighty fine girl, any 
way; got lots o’ spunk and independence. 
Butpshaw! if the rightfellow would approach 
her in the right way, she’d mighty soon 
come down off her high horse. It’s all a 
question of how the approach is made and 
who makes it.” 

Then lowering his voice, he winked one 
eye until it looked like a little gleam of light 
scintillating in a cluster of tiny folds and 
wrinkles. 

“ I wish I stood in your shoes for the next 
ten days, Harland; I’d bet a thousand 
dollars, she’d not fire the look at me that she 
did when she left.’’ 

He got up and, pulling down his vest, 
smoothed his large stomach as if he was 


32 Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /Bboberns. 

more than satisfied with its portly dimen- 
sions. 

“ She is a mighty fine girl,” mused Har- 
land, talking to himself. “ I doubt whether 
a fellow could make many advances, if she 
tossed her head back and snapped her eyes 
at him as she did at you. If — ” 

“If, if,” roared Horner in a coarse voice; 
“ay, ay, that’s the rub, sir. There are some 
men born with a hypnotic eye, and girls can 
no more resist their powers than rabbits can 
break away from the spell thrown about 
them by a snake.” 

“Do you believe that?'” asked Harland, 
as if a new idea had come into his head 
which he would work out at the first 
opportunity. 

“Believe it? I know it.” And Horner’s 
face seemed to swell out with a consciousness 
of his power, as he reached for his hat and 
placed it on the side of his head. 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /IRoberne. 


33 


CHAPTER III. 

A PROLONGED rain had turned into the first 
snow of the season, and with it came a 
strong north wind, fierce and stinging. 
Catherine, in a long close-fitting cloak of 
black, with a black fascinator about her 
head, made a picture which Harland’s fine 
eye for beauty took in at a glance. Her 
bangs, dampened by the moisture outside, 
lay in soft curls about her forehead; and 
her eyes, of a golden, beryline color, shone 
with a softened radiance which seemed a 
part of the brightness in her hair. Laying 
aside her wraps and shaking the snow from 
her clothes, she spread out her umbrella 
and took her place with more dignity than 
was becoming in her. The rebuke that she 
had given to Horner had made a deep 
impression upon the mind of Harland. It 


34 


^Tbe 5uggcrnaut of tbc flboberne. 


had placed upon his actions a restraint 
which, even if Catherine had not assumed 
her present coldness, would have 
prevented him from making further 
advances. He was ashamed of his 
approaches, and wanted to show her that 
he was not cast in the coarse mould of Mr. 
Horner. 

Her day’s work done, Catherine, who 
had worn a pair of buttoned arctics, reached 
for her shoes and, pulling them on, said: 

“ Have you a button hook, Mr. Harland.^ 
I — I forgot mine, and I cannot button my 
shoes without it.” 

“ No; but I can go down the street and 

get one for you Or — or — I can button 

them for you.” 

He strode quickly across the room and 
stood before her, casting keen, sidelong 
glances from her waist to her feet. Her 
manner, an odd blending of dignity and 
bashfulness, almost made him smile. 

“ There seems to be no other way,” she 


^Tbc 5 uggcrnaut of tbc ^oberns. 35 

answered, ‘‘ but I dislike to. I am a very 
self-reliant mortal, Mr. Harland, and I 
never want another to do for me the things 
that I can do for myself. There seems, 
however, to be no other way out of it.” 

Harland coughed. 

“ I assure you,” he said, assuming an air 
of gallantry, “ that it gives me the utmost 
pleasure to touch even the soles of your 
shoes.” 

Pie got down upon one knee and placed 
her foot upon the other one, touching her 
skirts almost reverently. As his hand 
touched her tiny boot he wondered how a 
thing so small could support the weight of 
her body. The width of the tip of her 
shoe could not be more than an inch. He 
thought he would like to see the natural 
size of her foot as contrasted with its 
present dimensions, but he did not say so. 
What he did say was: 

“ How much do you weigh. Miss Hunt- 
ley.?” 


36 Zbe 5ugc!ernaut of tbc /Bboberns. 

‘‘Before I came West I weighed a hun- 
dred and thirty,” she returned dryly. 

“You have a remarkably small foot for 
a girl of that weight. Why do you spoil 
the effect by wearing a pair of arctics like 
these ? It’s not winter 3^et, and you look 
as if you were going on a vo^’age to the 
Arctic regions.” 

“ I am not strong,” she answered, push- 
ing her chair back a little and covering her 
feet with her gown. “ I appreciate the 
force of the old saying, that an ‘ ounce of 
prevention is worth a pound of cure.’ ” 

Her attempts toward dignit}^ had been 
almost a hopeless failure. 

“You an invalid!” he exclaimed, getting 
up and fixing a hypnotic gaze upon her 
face and form. “ I am sure you look like 
anything but an invalid; illness leaves no 
marks on you, unless it is to make }"our 
face round and 3'our eyes sparkle with 
something that is a ver3^ fine imitation of 
health. I should not object to invalidism 


Zhc juggernaut of tbc /Rboberns. 37 

myself if it made me look like you. I can- 
not imagine you as suffering.” 

There flitted across his mind a vague 
wonder concerning the nature of her malady. 
As she buttoned her long cloak, which 
brought out the slenderness of her waist, he 
wondered what the effects would be if his 
own waist were compressed by bone and 
steel within so small a compass. 

“You will pardon me if — but — ”. He 
checked himself and asked abruptly : “ Don’t 
be in a hurry; please be seated a moment. 
I want to talk to you on a matter of busi- 
ness.” 

Catherine complied with his request. 

“We like your work. Miss Huntley,” he 
began, picking up his professional airs and 
speaking in a clear-cut tone of business. 
“We shall need some one right along 
after this; you can do well enough to com- 
mand a salary from the time that you came 
into the olflee. Your work is neat and 
accurate, better than that of our stenographer 


38 XLbe Juggernaut of tbe /Bbobcrns. 

who has been with us for the past year. I 
have this proposition to make to you: 
We will give you thirty dollars for the first 
month, increasing your salary from time to 
time in proportion to your proficiency and 
skill. What do you think about it?” 

Catherine played with her umbrella for 
some minutes, looking all the while at the 
figure of a tiny baby carved in the oxidized 
silver of the handle. 

‘‘ I must make my own way in the world, 
and I am glad that my work will bring me 
in something. I had thought it would take 
a long time to fit myself for practical work.” 

She twirled the umbrella rapidly several 
times, and then looked down at the little 
child in silver. When she spoke again, she 
did not raise her eyes and her voice sounded 
low and husky: 

“Speaking of business, / too have some- 
thing to say-and-I hardly-know where to 
begin. There are-there have happened- 
some little things that it is very necessary 


^Tbe juggernaut of tbe /IBobcrns. 39 

for me to speak about. They can hardly 
be defined; but they deeply concern the 
employer and the employee, if the employee 
is a woman.” 

His face filled with admiration, Harland 
drew a chair up to her side and sat down. 
She stopped, as if her command of words 
had failed, and turned her eyes again to the 
little figure perched upon the handle of the 
umbrella. She made a quick pass around 
its body with her forefinger, and then burst 
out in a clear firm voice: 

“ Mr. Harland, I am not a prude, I do not 
want to cry out before I am hurt; but there 
have happened some — little things, that I 
cannot tolerate hereafter. I don’t see why 
men and women cannot be honest with 
each other. I do not see why it is nec- 
essary for them to play at cross purposes 
and fence as you have done with me. You 
may affect not to understand me; you may 
ask me to define just what it is that I refer 
to.” She moved her chair a little, leaning 


40 


XLbc 3uggernaut of tbc /BboDcrns. 


over toward him. “ You know what I 
mean. You would not pretend that you 
do not understand me ? ” 

‘‘Yes, I know what you mean.” 

“ Then, will you forget that I am a wom- 
an and let me talk honestly and flat-foot- 
edly to you, as I would to another woman ? ” 
“Go on; I’ll listen to anything that you 
may have to say.” 

“ Then let me tell you that I am not a 
silly, foolish girl to be deceived by soft 
looks and gentle hints. I am a Tvoman, and 
I must work. I demand of you to drop 
these little attentions that you have thrust 
upon me. I will not tolerate them. I 
mus^ work, I can not run; and you must 
give me the respect that is my due.” 

Harland had been used to seeing women 
return smile for smile, overture for over- 
ture. Now, surprised and foiled, he could 
do nothing but throw up his hands at this 
fearless young creature who looked him 
straight in the eye and reasoned with him 
as one woman reasons with another. 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /HboDerne. 41 

Miss Huntley,” he said in a tone of 
deep humiliation, “ I don’t know what to 
say to you. I do not deny that I have 
shown you some attentions, but they sprang 
from no lack of respect for you; on the 
contrary. You talk flat-footedly to me, and 
that gives me the right to respond in kind 
and degree. My excuse for my conduct 
toward you is that, from the time you first 
entered this room — you remember when you 
came here dressed in black — I was power- 
fully and irresistibly attracted toward you. 
It was as if I had known you from time im- 
memorial ; and I would then and there have 
caught you in my arms and kissed you, had 
it not been for the timely, or untimely, en- 
trance of Bitsell who, you will Temember, 
came in just as you were leaving. I should 
not have cared for the results; I lost my 
head from the first, and I am madly infatu- 
ated with| you now. Those little things that 
you mention are but manifestations of what 
is within.V 


42 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 


She sprang to her feet, her face red with 
indignation. 

“ And you are a man like this,” she ex- 
claimed, “so little respect for your wife and 
family! Your office, Mr. Harland, is no 
place for a woman.” 

“Miss Huntley, listen to me,” he pleaded, 
following her and bending his face very 
near to her own. For the time he was in 
dead earnest. Under the influence of her 
own candid honesty he felt impelled to 
confess to her all his past follies with weak 
and silly women. “ I deserve credit for tel- 
ling you this; I deserve credit for the 
restraint which I have placed upon my 
feelings out of my regard for you. I 
am a man of quick impulses and strong 
passions, and I often carry frankness to 
the point of foolishness, as I have done 
just now. But, believe me, I will never 
again approach you as I have done. I am 
not so mad that I do not have some appre- 
ciation of what is due from me 1o a woman 


Xlbe Juggernaut of tbc /iboDerns. 43 

like you. I would not, if I could, take any 
unfair advantage of you at the office. I have 
exposed my hand, the game is played out. 
From this time you need not be afraid of 
further demonstration on my part. I have a 
past which I may sometime tell you of, if 
you will hear me, in extenuation of my 
conduct toward you.” 

He had watched the effect which his 
words had made and was prepared for her 
reply. 

“ I have nothing but contempt for the 
revelation you have made to me,” she said 
going toward the door. “Yeti must work 
for some one, I can not run away from 
trifles. I think we understand each other, 
and I shall accept your proposition.” 

Her manner had undergone a change 
that would have chilled a heart bolder and 
more wicked than Harland’s. There was 
something quite formidable in her new dig- 
nity. 

“You will be here in the morning ?” he 
asked, his tones meek and chastened. 


44 Zbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 

“Yes,” was the answer. 

It had grown almost dark, and in the dull- 
ness of the evening storm he thought he had 
never before seen a face so full of strength 
and softness. Looking into her eyes, now 
aglow with 'honest thought and high resolve, 
he could hardly keep himself from falling 
down upon his knees and calling himself a 
brute. He wanted to kick Horner, too, for 
suggesting the temptation to charm her with 
his hypnotic eye. 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbc /liobcrns. 


45 


CHAPTER IV. 

‘‘ Are you alone, Miss Huntley?” 

Catherine looked up from her work and 
saw a woman of medium height, dressed 
in a stylish costume of drab. Her hair, 
black and curly, was caught back high 
upon her head in a cluster of short ringlets. 
Around her hat, which was of the same 
shade as her dress, was pinned, so as to 
stand out at some distance from her face, 
a web-like veil of cream silk. A great 
black dot, made in imitation of a spider 
and woven into the gauze just opposite her 
chin, looked like a living thing getting 
ready to spring upon her mouth. A con- 
fusion in the lower rooms, as of a number 
of animals being driven up the stairway, 
caused Catherine to turn her eyes in the di- 
rection of the door. A strange scene con- 


46 Cbc Juggernaut of tbc /Iftoberno. 

fronted her. Three mouse-colored hounds, 
a white bird-dog, a large Newfoundland, a 
water spaniel, and a huge mastiff filled the 
doorway and were scrambling over each 
other in their efforts to enter the room. 
One of the hounds coming up to Catherine 
laid his head affectionately in her lap. The 
others amused themselves by rolling over 
each other on the floor and sniffing at the 
furniture. Catherine did not reply to the 
woman’s question; she sat in wonder, look- 
ing from her to the dogs. 

Showing a row of even teeth, and a suc- 
cession of dimples in her cheeks, the 
stranger laughed. 

“You are Miss Huntley,” she said, “ the 
judge’s stenographer; I am Mrs. Wollesey, 
proprietor of the firm of Wollesey & Co. 
My store is just below the office. I have 
seen you pass quite often and I feel almost 
acquainted with you. Excuse my abrupt- 
ness ; did I startle you ? ” 

Seeing the absurdity of the situation, 
Catherine laughed. 


^Tbe juggernaut of tbc /Bboberng. 47 

“ Yes, for an instant. Will you not be 
seated ? Mr. Harland is in the country, and 
Judge Bitsell is seldom here. I am in 
charge of the office; is your business of a 
nature that you can leave it with me ” 

“ Thank you, I am quite at home here,” 
she responded, throwing herself informally 
upon the lounge. “ My business is not with 
the firm, it is with you. I knew you 
were alone, so I took this opportunity to 
come in and talk to you. ” 

The woman sat silent for some minutes; 
and Catherine, scanning her face and form, 
saw that her complexion was soft and white, 
that her eyes were blue, and that the lids 
were fringed with long black lashes. The 
contrast between the eyes and hair was 
striking in the extreme. Her turban set a 
little bit to one side gave her face a look of 
piquancy and youthfulness. On closer 
inspection Catherine thought she must be 
more than thirty, and that she would be a 
startlingly handsome woman, were it not for 


48 G:be Juggernaut of tbc /iboberns. 

the made-up appearance of her style and 
beauty. 

When Mrs. Wollesey spoke again she 
peered sharp!}’ at Catherine. 

“ I came to tell you of m3’ relations with 
the judge. I presume you know some- 
thing of his business: 3’ou do his correspon- 
dence.” 

“ No,” Catherine replied glancing keenl}’ 
into the sparkling e}’es of her visitor, “ I 
know nothing of Judge Bitsell’s affairs. He 
is never in the office, onl}’ to come and go 
on matters concerning himself and Mr. Har- 
land.” 

“ Well, I thought it best to come and see 
3’Ou, Miss Huntle}’,” Mrs. Wollesey went on 
as she threw one foot over the other and la}’ 
back upon the lounge, resting her head 
against her hand. “I am a plain, blunt per- 
son; I never beat about the bush when I 
have anything to say. If you have any idea 
of the judge’s business, you know that he is 
under heavy obligations to me financially. 


XTbc Juggernaut of tbc jfllboberns. 49 

But I did not come here to tell you that. 
I came to speak of our other rela- 
tions. I came here to tell you that 
Bitsell belongs to me and that, whether 
I ever marry him or not, he has no right to 
bestow his attentions upon another woman. 
You know why I tell you this, of course; 
when a man is in the company of a woman 
from day to day, there is danger of his becom- 
ing a trifle too much interested in her. You 
are lovely, and you know it; the judge has 
often spoken of your hair. I take it from 
your face that you are whole-souled and 
honest, so I take the matter in time and tell 
3’ou that Bitsell has no more right to seek a 
woman’s heart than Harland has.” 

Catherine did not know what to say. She 
reflected that she had heard some gossip 
about a wealth^' widow who controlled a 
large property and monied interests, and 
who, in open defiance of society, lived with 
Bitsell as his wife. 

“I admire your frankness, Mrs. Wollesey,” 


50 Ebc Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberno. 

she ventured, thinking how unconventional 
and how unlike other women was this 
handsome widow who lay in such perfect 
abandon before her. Other ladies who were 
strangers had always sat bolt upright, with 
hands folded just so, talking in measured 
tones and using a set form of speech. Here 
was a woman, who was wealthy and 
educated and elegantl}^ dressed, and who 
yet moved and sat and spoke as one who 
knew nothing of the conventionalities of the 
world. 

Mrs. Wollesey in turn studied the bright- 
faced girl sitting behind the typewriter. 
She put her head a little bit on one side and 
looked at her as she would gaze at a por- 
trait or an image. 

“ Miss Huntley,” she said, “ your dress 
is beautiful. May I trouble you to stand up 
and let me look at it ? Of course, you did 
not get it made here ? ” 

“No,” said Catherine rising and standing 
out from behind the machine. Mrs. Wol- 


^Tbe Juggernaut of tbe /iboberns. 51 

lesey got up and put her hand on the girl’s 
shoulder, turning her round and round as 
she would a lay figure. 

“It’s a lovely fit, perfectly lovely; but, 
my dear girl, you are killing yourself by 
inches. Just look there ! ” 

She thumped the steels of her corset and 
tried, by pinching at her, to make some 
impression along the line of the waist. 

“Foolish girl !” she ejaculated, “don’t 
you know what you are doing for yourself.^ 
Supposing you should wear a tight bandage 
corded and boned upon your arms, for even 
a year, do you think you could use them at 
the end of that time.^ And how much 
more serious must the effects be — ” 
Catherine looked horrified. 

“ Look here,” pursued Mrs. Wollesey, 
throwing aside her cape and exhibiting a 
full, round and’ uncompressed waist. “ I 
don’t wear them at all. People won- 
der how I can retain my clear com- 
plexion; they even tell that I am padded, 


52 


n:bc Juggernaut of tbc /Iboberns. 


painted and made-up. But it all comes 
from health, and health comes from not 
wearing corsets.” 

At first shocked by her personal remarks, 
Catherine now wanted to laugh at the novel- 
ty of the situation. 

“ Take them off, take them off. Miss 
Huntley, and put them in the stove,” said 
Mrs. Wollesey, going to the window and 
looking down at her horses. “ Dear old Jip- 
pie and darling Dolly,” she exclaimed, 
‘‘Mrs. Wollesy’s coming; coming pretty 
soon, sweethearts ! And she will bring your 
sugar, too.” Turning to Catherine she 
smiled, the dimples in her face dancing like 
little ripples on a lake. 

“ See how impatient they are! Needham 
just brought them from the stable and they 
are tired waiting for me. I always give 
them sugar before I start for a drive, and 
they are out of humor because I am not 
ready.” 

Looking out Catherine saw a pair of yellow 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /iboOcrns. 


53 


ponies hitched to a phaeton. They stood 
pawing and biting uneasily at their bits. 

“ They look too full of life for a lady to 
drive,” observed Catherine. “ Aren’t you 
afraid they will get the better of you some- 
time? ” 

Mrs. Wollesey put her hand into her 
pocket and drew out a lump of white sugar. 

“ Not when I feed them this; I can do 
a?iytking‘ with them when I give them 
plenty of sugar. But- ’ she lowered her 
voice and looked tragic, “ do you know I 
am always haunted by a fancy, when I am 
getting ready for a drive? I see myself 
holding the reins, Dolly and Jippie rearing 
and plunging; and they always run! Oh, 
I shudder to think of it; but I know I shall 
meet my death in that phaeton! ” 

While speaking her eyes seemed to be 
following some object in the far distance. 
Her dogs, seeing her ready to go, crowded 
around her, licking her hands and jumping 
up into her face. She stooped and put her 


54 


Zhc juggernaut of tbe /IboDcrns. 


arms around the spaniel’s neck and kissed 
him. 

“ Dear old Rover and darling Bixa! I 
could not live without 1113^ dogs and m}^ 
horses, and m3’ bo3’. Oh, m3' bo3'! Rich- 
mond, Richmond! ” she called, pushing her 
wa3^ among the dogs to the door. “ Rich- 
mond, come here this veiy minute and 
never leave 3’our mamma like this again.” 

Catherine was on the point of making 
some comment upon Mrs. Wollese3^’s affec- 
tion for her dogs, when a little bo3' about 
eight 3'ears of age, dressed in a Lord Faunt- 
lero3^ suit, his long 3’ellow curls below his 
waist, rushed into the room and throwing his 
arms about his mother’s neck, cried 
excitedly: 

“Make ’im giv’ it tu me, mamma; make 
’im giv’ it tu me. It’s mine, I traded fur it, 
an’ it’s mine. Come quick.” 

“ M3' darling Ritchie, 1113^ only boy, what 
is it.?” 

“’S that book ’bout Jesse James. I giv’ ’im 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /HboDerns. 55 

a jackknife an’ twenty-live marbles fur it, 
an’ we’ve been in the alley behind the store 
a-readin’ it, an’ now he’s tuk it off and won’t 
let me have it. Come quick, mamma, come 
quick an’ make ’im giv’ it to me.” 

‘‘ My poor Ritchie, mamma is bringing 
you up like a little gamin. My boy read- 
ing Jesse James — my boy ! The store can go 
to Hades before I’ll see him come up like 
this!” 

Seizing him by the arm she stooped and 
looked into his face for several minutes. 
Then arranging his curls, which the wind 
had blown about his face, she said in her 
bubbling, coaxing way: 

“ Ritchie, that is not the book for my boy 
to read. Let the bad boy keep it, and I will 
give you money to buy anotherhook, a good 
book; that’s the book for thieves and wicked 
boys, but not for mamma’s darling.” 

Richmond threw himself upon the floor 
and refused to be comforted. 

“ Come on, Ritchie,” said his mother ten- 


56 


XTbe juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 


derly. But Ritchie struck at the air and 
declined to budge. 

Almost simultaneously with the move- 
ment Mrs. Wollesey gave him a stinging 
blow over the head with the palm of her 
hand. Then, before Catherine could realize 
what her strange visitor was doing, she had 
picked up a stick and was raining blow after 
blow upon the boy’s head and face. 

“Now this is the way you love your 
mother, is it?” she fairly shrieked, her face 
livid with rage. “ How I watched over 
you and loved you from the time you were 
a nasty little baby! Ah, I believe I hate 
3'ou — yes, I hate you ; and I wish you had 
never been born I This is the thanks you 
give me for raising you, is it? Get up, 
now, and come downstairs this very minute, 
or I shall whip you within an inch of your 
life; do you hear me?” 

She lifted him to his feet by his long 
curls and struck him in the face with the 
back of her hand. 


Zbc juggernaut of tbc /HboOerns. 


57 


“Don’t you dare to cry! Hush, hush, 
this very minute! And straighten your face 
before we go.” 

Moaning piteously between his sobs, 
Richmond faltered : 

“ Oh mamma, dear mamma, you have put 
out m}’ eye; honest, honest, you’ve put out 
m}’ eye! Oh mamma, Ido love you! I do 
love 3’ou ! ” 

Richmond knew his eye was not out. 
But he also knew what route to take to 
reach his mother’s heart. So he got down 
upon his knees and, clinging to the bottom 
of his mother’s skirts, he kissed them pas- 
sionatel}\ Mrs. Wollesey’s face changed 
from an expression of intense anger to one 
of deep compassion and penitence. 

“ My darling Ritchie, mamma was so 
angry; 3’ou do aggravate her so! It breaks 
my heart to have to punish you like this. 
Come and kiss me, precious, and mind 
mamma next time and she’ll never whip 
her darling boy again.” 


58 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc ^oberns. 


She patted his head, and kissed him on the 
eyes and hair. His eyes red and swollen, 
Richmond put his arms lovingly around his 
mother’s neck. 

“ I can have Jesse James now^ can’t I, 
mamma darling.? I’ll not read it; I’ll jis’ 
look at the pictures, an giv’ it back tu ’im.” 

“ All right, Ritchie,” said his mother, 
not noticing that Richmond had come off 
more than conqueror. If you don’t read it, 
mamma doesn’t care for you looking at the 
pictures.” 

Speaking to Catherine, who had been a 
silent looker on, she said: 

“ I suppose you think Pm a genuine wild 
cat! But I have so much to worry me, my 
household cares, my store, and business 
embarrassments — and the judge has been 
drinking again ; my nerves can’t stand 
everything! I’m not so bad. Miss Huntley, 
as I seem. My hearfs all right, but my 
temper is a little bit out of order, especially 
to-day.” 


Zbc 5uggcrnaut of the ^o&crns. 59 

Her face had now recovered its former ex- 
pression of childish piquancy. Catherine, 
whose reigning passion was the study of 
human nature, stood leaning against the 
window trying to read her visitor’s charac- 
ter. In a dim way she was wondering 
how one with a heart so full of tenderness 
for dumb brutes could, in anger and with- 
out just cause, strike and bruise the flesh of 
her own child. She made no reply to Mrs. 
Wollesey’s information concerning the 
state of her nerves. Glancing out at the 
phaeton below she said: 

“ Your horses, Mrs. Wollesey — they have 
broken their halter!” 

Calling dramatically to Richmond and 
Bixa, Mrs. Wollesey slid down the whole 
length of the stairway and soon held her 
horses by their reins. They were not 
aware that their halter had been broken. 
Richmond and Bixa, with the Newfound- 
land, climbed into the carriage, while Mrs. 
Wollesey administered to each pony a 


6o Zhc Juggernaut of tbc /Iftobcrne. 

large lump of sugar. Kissing them fondly, 
she jumped into the phaeton and waved 
her hand toward the window. In another 
instant, with her retinue of dogs and Rich- 
mond, she had vanished from sight. 


Cbc Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 


6i 


CHAPTER V. 

Mrs. Wollesey’s bookkeeper has gone 
to Chicago and she wants you to take that 
position afternoons, Miss Huntley; if we 
can make some arrangement to that effect, 
there will be money in it for all of us. She 
seems to have fallen desperately in love 
with you: an odd thing for a woman to do, 
especially when the other woman is good- 
looking! She will probably call this after- 
noon ; what do you say ? ” 

Walking back and forth over the floor, 
Harland stopped and waited for Catherine’s 
answer. 

“ I do not know,” she rejoined without 
looking up. “When Mrs. Wollesey was 
here, the other day, she displayed a very 
violent disposition; her temper is simply 
dreadful. Do you think it would be a 
pleasant position, Mr. Harland ? ” 


62 


Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 


He lauglied uproariously, pulling his coat 
tails in front and lapping one over the other. 
Straightening his face he queried with more 
concern than he had intended: 

What did she want here at the office ? ” 
“ She came to tell me she had an exclu- 
sive right to the judge,” answered Catherine 
smiling at her own remark. “ But do you 
know I quite admired her for it ? it is so 
very odd and original. She is the queerest, 
the most unconventional person I ever met. 
Her manners are charming, and they are 
Mrs. Wollesey’s manners only. She is very 
rich and artistic in her dress, to be sure, but 
there is something in her style and manner 
of wearing clothes which does not belong 
to other women of wealth. She is so very 
intense and dramatic in all she says and 
does! I noticed all this and thought I 
understood how to take her. It came from 
her own extravagant and strange way of 
doing things; am I not right?” 

“ I wonder if you have read ine as well,” 


XLbe 5 uggcrnaut of tbc fiboberns. 63 

Harland questioned, slowl}’ gazing at her in 
a puzzled sort of way. For some minutes 
he sat lost in the consideration of a subject 
which apparently had no connection with 
the one in hand. 

“You are right in your diagnosis, quite 
right,” he continued abstracted!}’, his eyes 
resting on the distant landscape to the 
south, which seemed to stretch out into the 
immensity of space. “Considering the size 
of her person she has the most violent tem- 
per that was ever wrapped in mortal frame. 
Heavens, but I pity Bitsell; she’s a holy 
terror when she gets mad ! She has a 
wondrously good side to her nature, though; 
she is kind and affectionate, honest and 
industrious. You could get along with her 
all right; your relation would not be that of 
a common clerk. If you should entertain 
any designs toward the judge^ she would 
simply make piecemeal of you, that is all.” 

“Mr. Harland, I want to ask you some- 
thing, before I make up my mind to accept 


64 Ubc 5u9gernaut of tbc /iSobcrns. 

the place; will you tell me the honest truth ?” 

‘‘That depends — ask me first! I will tell 
you then of which sort my reply will be.” 

“Does — is — that is — is it true; does Mrs. 
Wollesey sustain the relation to Mr. Bitsell 
that gossips say she does ? ” 

Harland’s face flushed as he said hotly: 

“That is none of my business, or yours 
either, if you will pardon such an abrupt 
statement.” 

Hurt at his tone, as well as at the insinua- 
tion which his words implied, she said: 

“It was not a desire for gossip that 
prompted me to ask you this, Mr. Harland. 
My motive is evident. I am alone in the 
world and must from sheer force pay some 
regard to Mrs. Grundy. No harm can come 
to anyone from your telling me your honest 
opinion.” 

“ Look here. Miss Huntley! If I tell you 
that such is their relation, you will refuse 
the position that is offered you; that is, if 
you are like the common run of conven- 


^Tbc 5uggernaut of tbe flbo&crns. 65 

tional women. But you will never question 
the propriety of remaining in the employ of 
Bitsell!” 

His tones were freighted with scathing 
contempt. She said no more, but sat draw- 
ing parallel lines across a sheet of paper. 
At length her eyes, wide-open and fearless, 
sought his face. 

“ How absurd ! ” she said thoughtfully. 
“ What right have I to require a certificate 
of character from either the man or the 
woman who employs me? If reports are 
true, why should I refuse to work for Mrs. 
Wollesey, and still remain in the employ of 
Bitsell?” 

He had touched a new spring in her char- 
acter. On the evening that she reproved 
him for attempted familiarities, he had 
learned that her disposition was one of frank 
and fearless candor. Now this sudden 
change of mind revealed to him the inhe- 
rent tendency of her mind toward freedom 
of thought and action. 


66 


tibe 5uggcrnaut of tbe /iboberns. 


“Since you are disposed to be so sensi- 
ble”, he said, drawing his chair away from 
the desk and speaking in a conciliating tone 
of confidence, “I will tell you that Mrs. 
Wollesey is a virtuous woman, in the strict- 
est sense of the word; but she denies the 
right of man or man-made institutions to 
unite people in marriage. She believes that 
a civil contract between two intelligent per- 
sons is all that is necessary, and she laughs 
at what she calls God’s first attempts at 
polygamy as found in the history of the 
Israelites under Moses. Whatever the 
world may say of Mrs. Wollesey, I have 
nothing but perfect respect for her: she is 
not afraid to put her theories into practice.” 

Catherine shuddered at the audacity of 
his statements. Training and education 
suggested that Mrs. Wollesey was not the 
proper person for intimate association; 
consistency and reason laughed at the vir- 
tue which makes distinctions between men 
like Bitsell and women like Mrs. Wollesey. 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbc fllboberns. 67 

She would accept the position, but, of 
course, their relations would never develop 
into anything like friendship. 

During this mental conflict Mrs. Wollesey 
herself, accompanied by her dogs and Rich- 
mond, amid a tumultuous uproar came in; 
she greeted Catherine by throwing her arms 
around her neck and stroking her hair. 

“You will keep my books for me, won’t 
you. Miss Huntley? Set your own price 
and your own hours, I am bound to have 
you in the store.” 

Catherine heard her accents like the rip- 
pling of soft waters. Could this be the 
same voice that had hurled reproof so 
harsh at the inoffending little Richmond? 
Could this piquant, loving face represent the 
Arm of Wollesey & Co.? 

“ I might try it for a time,” answered 
Catherine, hardly knowing what she said. 
And the bargain was at once concluded 
without chaffering or hesitancy on either 
side. 


68 ;rbe juggernaut of tbc /Ibo&crn 0 . 

Immediately following Mrs. Wollesey’s 
entrance, Harland turned his attention to a 
blank mortgage which he was tilling out in 
due form of law. Just above him, suspended 
by a silken thread, hung a great spider with 
a black body and venomous head. It hung 
there, trembling and ferocious, gliding up 
and down in mid-air, till by a sudden elonga- 
tion of its web, it dropped within touch of 
his hand. ' He got up, broke the thread and 
carried the depredator, swinging and gyrat- 
ing, in the direction of the stove. With a 
loud shriek, Mrs. Wollesey turned from 
Catherine and made a quick bound toward 
the coal scuttle. 

“You shall not burn it,” she gasped, pick- 
ing up the poker and holding the door of 
the stove fast shut. Her arm shook and the 
muscles of her face twitched painfully. 

“What shall I do with it?” he asked. 
“I can’t have the thing in here, and if I 
throw it outdoors, it will freeze to death. 
It is only being merciful to end its life at 


once.’ 


tTbe 5uggcrnaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 69 

“You shall not kill it; there is room in 
the world for every living thing. It was 
made for some purpose, and you have no 
right to murder it because you are a great 
big man, and it only a helpless little spider.” 

She took it from his hand and went to the 
bookcase. Searching among the papers in 
the upper drawer with one hand, she held 
the spider, still attached to the thread, with 
the other. Picking up a match box con- 
taining a few matches, she emptied them 
in the drawer and put the spider into the 
box; then she covered it with the lid, which 
she punctured with a large pin. 

“ I’ll put it in the window and let it stay 
among the flowers, till spring comes. It 
won’t harm anyone,” she explained taking a 
few steps toward the door. “ I’ll give you 
a drive every day. Miss Huntley. Your 
hair nearly matches Jippie and Dolly.” 

Here the door opened and Richmond, 
followed by the hounds and bird dog, en- 
tered, all scrambling m together. It took 


70 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 


some time before Mrs. Wollesey, holding 
Richmond with one hand and clutching the 
spider with the other, could make anything 
like a reasonable exit from the room. When 
she was out of hearing Catherine faced 
Harland, who jumped up with a loud burst 
of laughter. 

“ What shall I do?” she questioned in an 
undertone, as soon as he had ceased laugh- 
ing. “I can never go out with Mrs. Wol- 
lesey. What shall I do? What shall I say 
to her ? ” 

He had been immensely amused before; 
he became hilarious now. 

“You are in no danger of losing caste by 
driving with Mrs. Wollesey,” he began as 
soon as he had come out of his convulsion, 
“if that is what is troubling your mind. She 
has influence and position, and a good many 
people in Buffalo would feel not only com- 
plimented but highly honored by this pre- 
ference. Mrs. Wollesey and Miss Huntley 
behind that span of yellow ponies will be 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrns. 71 

the envy and admiration of the town ! ” A 
weight like lead rested on her mind and 
this assurance did not remove it. 

Her work for the day finished, she had 
started for the door, when Harland called 
out: 

“ Wait a minute. I am going down the 
street, too.” 

Together they walked out and down the 
sidewalk. Harland resumed the conversa- 
tion of the afternoon, speaking as if the sub- 
ject had not been dismissed from his mind 
since it had been under discussion. As he 
spoke, the same odd fire played in his eyes: 

“ When you have lived in the West a few 
years. Miss Huntley, you will learn that this 
is the land of freedom, freedom of thought 
and action, and life and liberty as concerns 
society. In your town, perhaps, Mrs. 
Wollesey would be ostracised by the 
uppertendom; here, people court her as a 
person of wealth and power.” 

They had left Main Street, and Catherine 


72 Zhc Juggernaut of tbc /llboOerns. 

asked, “ Do you live in this part of the town ?” 
She wanted him to change the subject, and 
she wanted him to take the cue and walk 
on. 

“ Yes, I live on the corner of Fifth and 
Maple; but I have an errand over your way 
and, with your permission, I will accompany 
you.” 

A pause followed, which was soon broken 
by Harland saying: 

“ Let me tell you my experience. Miss 
Huntley,” giving his breast a series of light 
rapid taps, first with one hand and then with 
the other. “ I am no Westerner; I arrived 
here six years ago, young and verdant, with 
a wife and two children. I came from a 
family of ministers, and was myself educated 
for the ministry; but knowing my own mind 
better than another possibly could, I chose 
the profession of law, and came out here 
with high ambitions for myself and family, 
and with exalted notions about the better- 
ment of the human race. I had never 


?rbc Juggernaut of tbc /Bboberns. 


73 


smoked a cigar, taken a drink of whiskey, 
or — or — been in an escapade with a woman. 
It did not take me long to learn that I was 
the butt of my fellow-men; that the world 
accorded me an3thing, ever3thing that I 
chose to take, but laughed at me and called 
me a fool for not reaching out and taking 
mo 7 'e. ‘ Why,’ I asked, ‘ should I, a weak 
puny soul, set myself up as an example for 
other men ? Why should I refuse myself 
the pleasures that are granted to every man 
as his natural right ? ’ Even at college I 
had been taught that it is a man’s place to 
ask and a woman’s to refuse.” 

Catherine, her eyes flashing fire, turned 
upon him with more spirit than he had seen 
her manifest before: 

“What do you mean, Mr. Harland; what 
are you trying to say to me ? ” 

“ I mean to say that society draws the line 
at nothing a man may do, if he uses caution 
and judgment about it; and that, in the far 
West, more liberty is given to women than 


74 tTbe juggernaut of tbc /ibobcrns. 

is permitted to them in the East. I hope 
to see the day when woman shall have equal 
rights with man, without being tabooed by 
her sister woman.” 

‘‘ When I asked you what I did about 
Mrs. Wollesey,” she flashed out, “ I didn’t 
mean to give you a right to say nasty and 
insulting things to me. I thought you too 
much of a gentleman to take advantage of 
it.” 

“ Miss Huntley,” he said, speaking in slow 
and deliberate tones, “ once before I had 
occasion to tell you I am a man who carries 
frankness to the point of foolishness. I am 
one of those fellows who don’t know enough 
to conceal his vices; I don’t hide behind 
any conventionality, or parade in any false 
colors. There is a shadow of virtue in that, 
is there not ? ” 

His talk interested her in spite of herself. 
Though shocked at his revelations, she was 
fascinated at this glimpse he had given her 
of the motives which actuate the other sex. 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe /llbobcrns. 75 

She felt a qualm of shame, of course, at 
allowing him to talk to her about things that 
men are forbidden to speak of in the presence 
of ladies. But impelled by a desire to look 
upon woman and society from a man’s point 
of view, she asked: 

“ What would you do, Mr. Harland, if 
yourw^/e should act upon your own theory? 
Is it fair to have two standards — one for 
your wife, and one for another man’s 
wife ? ” 

He glanced down at her sharply, his eyes 
growing blacker and brighter. 

“You see, I will be honest, even if I am 
inconsistent. If my wife should ever prove 
untrue, I should simply her; not because 
she had done more than / had done, but 
because society does not accord her the same 
privileges that it gives to me. It would put 
me in an unenviable light and wound my 
vanity, and I should kill her; society would 
uphold me in that^ too. She would not be 
fit to be the mother of my children.” 


76 Zbe juggernaut of tbc /BboOcrns. 

“You are a churchman, Mr. Harland,” 
Catherine went on thoughfully, “ and you 
pray at church and at home; how do you 
reconcile your life and your religion?” 

“ I don’t try to reconcile them,” he re- 
torted with a gesture of impatience. “ Life 
is full of things that can’t be reconciled. 
The Bible itself is filled with statements 
which are inconsistent with each other. I 
simply accept things which I can neither 
help nor explain. I am not a libertine, nor 
a villain; I am not a hypocrite either; I am 
only a representative man, with more frank- 
ness than usually belongs to that individual. 
I pray at church and at home, because my 
wife is a churchwoman and wants the 
children brought up to observe the forms 
and ceremonies of the church; and for the 
further reason that I am a believer in the 
Christian religion, if my life /^n’t exactly 
what it ought to be.” 

He stopped and pulled his coat up about 
his ears. 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe ^oDcrns. 


77 


“/am not responsible,” in a moment he 
went on, “ for the common frailties of hu- 
man nature or for the laws and customs 
which help to develop those weaknesses. 
The. very fact that through all the ages hu- 
man beings have been prone to this weak- 
ness is its justification. There has been but 
one perfect man, and he was the Saviour. If 
David, and Solomon, and King Ahasuerus 
got back into favor with the Lord again, 
surely there is pardon for an ordinary sin- 
ner of the nineteenth century!” 

They had reached her boarding place and 
he stood holding the gate open, waiting for 
her to pass into the yard. As the gate 
closed he bowed, smiling, and lifted his 
hat. 

“ I have a way of not concealing my fol- 
lies, Miss Huntley, and you will probably 
never hear so much against me as I have 
told about myself. Remember that a man 
of many vices is perforce a man of many 
virtues.” 


78 Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /BboDcrns. 

She had never heard another man talk 
this way of himself. What a queer fellow 
he must be! Surely he was not so bad as 
he would make her believe. If he were, 
there would be some traces left upon his 
face or in his eyes. Probably he had 
exaggerated some trifling incident in his 
life and she had not understood him. 

As he turned to go back down the street 
he smiled to himself. The surest way to 
get down into the heart of a girl is to be a 
trifle daring and devilish, he thought. 
There is nothing that takes with the femin- 
ine heart so much as a certain dash of dev- 
iltry savoring of the Don Juan. 


ITbc Juggernaut of tbe ilboberns. 


79 


CHAPTER VI. 

The same evening that Ilarland had 
walked home with Catherine the immedi- 
ate neighborhood in which she lived was 
agog with strange rumors. In the absence 
of his wife, Harland had secured the ser- 
vices of a lady stenographer, and, in the 
broad light of day, was carrying on an open 
and high-handed flirtation with her. He had 
been seen more than once in her company, 
and had spent many evenings at her home. 
Some were inclined to doubt that she was a 
real bona-fide stenographer and typewriter. 
It was said by those who ought to know, 
that the firm of Bitsell & Harland did not 
have enough work to keep an assistant busy 
half-an-hour in the day. “Who is she?” 
“Where is she from?” “ Is she married or 
single?” 


8o 


JLbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberne. 


By way of answer to these questions 
some one (a woman) ventured the state- 
ment that, when the proper time came to 
divulge the secret, she herself would pro- 
duce some valuable information concerning 
the past history of this brazen thing, which 
would expose her as she deserved. It was 
all a preconcerted plan, this visit of his 
wife’s; the girl was not in the office for the 
purpose of employment. Now, since the 
news had gradually leaked out, another was 
not afraid to tell what ske had heard. Har- 
land had attended an apron festival at the 
church, and had paid live dollars for the 
prize apron of the evening. It was made of 
real silk and embroidered handsomely; as a 
matter of course, he would never buy such 
a beautiful thing for Mrs. Harland. The 
future would reveal the wearer as none 
other than the much talked about Miss 
Catherine Huntley. 

These and kindred whisperings furnished 
many an hour’s conversation for prudes and 
gossips. 


tlbc juggernaut of tbc /Hbobcrne. 


8i 


In the city, Catherine would have been 
but one of the toiling thousands, and her 
comings and goings would have excited 
neither comment nor notice. In Buffalo, 
the eye of the population was on her. Not 
accustomed to seeing women employed in 
the offices of men, it saw the on-coming of 
a filthy scandal, which would end in the 
breaking up of Harland’s home and the ul- 
timate ruin of Catherine Huntley’s character. 

‘H forgot to tell you. Miss Huntley, that 
Harland left word for you to come to the 
office this evening and write some letters. 
You’d better go up at once, or he will vent 
his indignation on 7ne. He’s waiting for 
you now.” 

Mrs. Wollesey coming into the office 
seated herself at the desk of the cashier. 

Going upstairs, Catherine found the room 
lighted and a fire burning brightly. Har- 
land coming in just behind her, took out his 
watch and said: 

‘‘ It’s nearly eight o’clock, and I have 


82 


Zbc 3ufl0ernaut of tbe /BboDerns, 


some letters to write, and a copy to get out, 
before the train leaves. Miss Huntley. If 
3’ou will get 3"our book and pencil, I am 
ready to give you some dictations.” 

She opened the machine. 

“ Will you dictate to the typewriter, or 
to the typewritist.^” 

‘‘To the machine, if it will help you in 
point of time.” 

For more than an hour her hands swept 
over the keys with the grace and rapidity of 
a musician. Harland sat to the right, the 
contour of his face turned toward her. 
Suddenly the machine stopped and, with a 
smothered cr}’, she fell back into her chair, 
her hands pressed to her heart and her eyes 
strained as if they would protrude from 
their sockets. 

“ God, Catherine! what is the mat- 
ter?” 

His face tense and ashen, he leaped up 
and, taking her in his arms, he laid her upon 
the lounge. She breathed in scant meas- 


^be Juggernaut of tbc /iRoberne. 83 

ures, and the muscles of her face and arms 
jerked spasmodically. He observed that 
she had not lost consciousness, but was in a 
state of mild delirium, laughing and crying 
alternately. Gasping for breath, and swal- 
lowing as if a ball was lodged in her throat, 
she attempted to tell him that she would 
soon be herself again. As these symptoms 
manifested themselves, his fright subsided; 
he knew enough of such cases to diagnose 
this attack as hysteria. 

He drew a chair up to the lounge, and 
rubbed her head and hands. As her face 
grew less rigid he bent over her and asked : 

“What has caused this. Miss Huntley; 
can you tell me.^ Perhaps I shall know 
what to do for you.” 

Moving her head from side to side, she 
fixed her eyes with a vacant stare upon his 
shoes and broke out hysterically: 

“How funny your shoes look! How big 
and loose they are! They don’t match at all; 
take them off! Stop, stop, the noise will 
kill me; take them off!” 


84 Zbe Juggernaut of tbe /Bboberns. 

He could hardly keep from laughing at 
her foolish words; but as his eyes rested 
upon her face, he was frightened at its 
deathly pallor. The pinched and bloodless 
lips, her eyes with the great discolorations 
underneath, made him think of death. 

She gasped aloud, again pressing her 
hand to her heart. 

“Can’t you tell me what the trouble is; 
what has happened to upset 3’ou like this. 
Miss Huntley.^” he urged brushing the 
hair back from her temples and smoothing 
her brow. 

Her voice sounded tremulous and hysteri- 
cal as she moaned; 

“ Oh, I forgot my rubbers — and — and — I 
was so tired, so tired ! ” 

She tossed her arms up over her head 
with a wild and rapid movement. He took 
both her hands ver}^ gently in one of his 
own, placing the other upon her waist. 

“ Great heavens! ” he muttered under his 
breath, as his hand came in contact with the 
stiff, unyielding wall of stag’s and steels 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberne. 85 

His first impulse was to open her dress and 
remove the pressure ' from her heart and 
lungs. But he onl}' stroked her hands ten- 
derly, and got up and put on his overcoat. 
Then tucking her cloak snugly about her he 
went out, and soon came back again bring- 
ing a bottle of wine. 

“ No, no,” she cried as he lifted her head, 
“ I should not dare to drink it and then go 
out into the cold air. Take me home quick; 
take me home right now! ” 

Delirium had seized her again, and she 
raved and sobbed b}^ turns. Procuring a 
carriage he helped her down the steps and 
placed .her in the vehicle. His manners 
were tender and respectful. She sat drawn 
up in a little heap in the corner, shivering 
like one with the ague. 

On reaching her home he almost carried 
her to the door and, slipping his arm about 
her, he bent and kissed her on the forehead. 
Then, as if he were a criminal escaping the 
law, he bounded toward the carriage and 
left her leaning against the door. 


^be Juggernaut of tbe /BioDerns. 


CHAPTER VII. 

“ I WONDER if the stenographer will be 
at the ball to-night? If I knew for certain 
she’d be there, I’d like to see the man or 
woman, power or principality, that could 
keep me away! Clara won’t let me dance; 
she says there’s a fire in my blood that, once 
kindled, would lead to my ultimate con- 
sumption. About right, too! If it was not 
for the restraint of my family I’d be the 
biggest sport in the West. She’s opposed 
to dancing, playing cards and that sort of 
thing; and I’m glad of it, after all. If I ever 
climb the golden stair, it will not be through 
any righteousness on my 0W7i part.” 

Harland jumped up and, running his 
fingers nervously through his hair, broke 
out at the top of his voice with the chorus 
of Annie Rooney — 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe ilboDerno. 87 

“She’s my sweetheart, 

I’m her beau; 

She’s my Annie, 

I’m her Joe.” 

Seizing a chair he waltzed around the 
room with it, singing the words over and 
over again. His voice rose and fell in alter- 
nate crescendos and ritardandos which had 
no reference to the sentiment contained in 
the verse. 

“ Get out an injunction on that, won’t 
you ? ” growled the senior member of the 
firm who, with hat pushed back upon his 
head and his feet crossed on the desk before 
him, sat drawing long puffs at a cigar. 

“I can truly say,” exclaimed Harland 
bringing the chair up to his desk and seating 
himself, “ that I’d barter all my hopes of 
heaven just to hold her, warm and throbbing, 
in my arms to-night and waltz with her.” 

He turned his head to one side and twisted 
his mouth around until it appeared to be 
located very near the middle of his right 
cheek. 


88 ITbe Juggernaut of tbc /iboberns. 

“ It’s the only hope I have of ever getting 
my arm around her waist,” he added mourn- 
fully, bringing his mouth back to its usual 
place. 

Bitsell slowly propelled from between 
his lips a cloud of smoke which completely 
hid head and face from his partner’s view. 

“ I thought you never danced,” he said, as 
he opened his mouth and again blew there- 
from a dense column of smoke that nearly 
filled the room. 

“ I don’t, because I lose my head in the 
ball-room. I could be*ruined for life by the 
right kind of a waltz and the right kind 
of a woman. I must say, it beats me, the 
conviction and abandon with which some 
of the coy young creatures afloat throw 
themselves into the waltz, not to mention 
their partners’ embraces. It seems as 
if here was one way in which nature could 
be allowed to act and Mrs. Grundy at 
the same time be euchred, while the 
young innocents need not yield to the 


XLbe Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 89 

old lady so much as a trick in the game. 
What right has societ}’ — ” 

“ Pooh!” it’s the same inconsistency that 
is seen in everything,” interrupted Bitsell, 
trying with his hand to push the smoke away 
from his face. “ It all originated in the 
breast of some old forefather who, through 
jealousy, wanted to prohibit others from 
enjoying the charms which gladdened his 
own heart.” 

“ There’s an element in human nature 
that reason and education can never eradi- 
cate,” returned Harland, in a tone which 
indicated that he did not take any stock in 
the turn Bitsell had given to the conversa- 
tion. 

Here the discussion was ended in its in- 
cipient stage by the entrance of the Rev. 
Mr. Cheeseberry, who was an odd com- 
pound of the Scotchman and the English- 
man. He wore a sleek black clerical suit. 
His black, shiny hair was s'moothed so close 
to his head that it looked as if it had been 


90 Zbe Juggernaut ot tbc ^oberne. 

varnished. Neither in his physiognomy 
nor in the shape of his head was there any- 
thing that bespoke his profession. 

“ Come in, come in, Brother Cheeseberry; 
come in,” said Harland^ rising and greeting 
the minister with a cordial shake of the 
hand. “We were discussing the women; 
of course, you would not mind exchanging 
opinions with us. Brother Cheeseberry. A 
fellow never gets so far into the kingdom 
that the glamour of a fine eye can’t call him 
down to things terrestrial.” 

“ That’s habout right. Brother ’Arland, 
habout right,” rejoined the minister laugh- 
ing immoderately, and sitting down in the 
chair that was offered him. 

To discuss the question of sex with an 
orthodox minister was a thing which Bit- 
sell was not very apt to do. He had many 
theories in private; he rarely expressed an 
opinion in public. Years ago when a young 
man he had edited a reform paper, and had 
spent without stint his money and talents in 


Zbe juggernaut of tbe /iRodcrns. 91 

the hope of making the world see the er- 
ror of its ways; but the world had moved 
on, refusing to see or hear. Since that time 
he had maintained a strict silence on the 
views which he believed to be radically 
right. He would live by them, they were 
good enough for him; but he had not the 
fire nor the metal of the reformer. He 
would leave that field to those who were 
better adapted for the work than himself. 
So with characteristic taciturnity, he turned 
to a huge pile of digests, leaving the mat- 
ter entirely in the hands of the other gentle- 
men present. 

“ An hopen confession is good for the 
soul. Brother ’Arland,” continued the min- 
ister, laying his hat upon his knee and strok- 
ing it softly. “ If I ’adn’t hentered the min- 
istry, I should very likely ’ave developed 
into a Beau Brummel or an Aaron Burr. 
But I ’ave the knowledge that though I 
slip and fall, I ’ave an Advocate with the 
Father. Ah, the hatonement is a blessed 


92 Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /BboOerns. 

thing, Brother ’Arland, for our sinful and 
fallen race; not for our sake, but for 
Christ’s, will our transgressions be par- 
doned! ” 

He spoke with the bluntness common to 
Englishmen, adding in a tone which he evi- 
dently meant to be subdued and reveren- 
tial: 

“ But the Lord will be merciful, brother; 
like bother men, ’e too, was tempted and 
tried on hall points. Ah, the spirit is willing 
but the flesh is weak! ” 

“Elder, a fellow is not altogether respon- 
sible for thinkings is he?” cried Harland 
vehemently, as he wheeled a chair around 
and, sitting down, braced one foot against 
the fender. “ Is there so much sin attached 
to the breaking of this commandment as you 
would make us believe? All history. Bib- 
lical and secular, tells us that man is a polyg- 
amous creature. Solomon’s wives were 
numberless, and the heart of David was not 
perfect. Abraham with the consent of the 


tCbc ^uflgcrnaut of tbc iHbobcrns. 93 

angel of the Lord went out of wedlock for 
his children. The history of kings and 
leaders since time began attests one and the 
same thing; the biography of great men 
would be tame and insipid if it were not for 
the coloring given to it by their affairs with 
women. Statesmen, poets, sages, philoso- 
phers, prophets — the trail of the serpent is 
over them all! And what’s a fellow to do 
in this age, elder? If his wife rears a fam- 
ily, he cannot impose upon her without in- 
jury to herself and her children. At the 
age of forty or forty-five, she loses that part 
of her nature which makes her a wife in the 
fullest sense; while man at that age, if he 
takes proper care of himself, is only in the 
heyday of his existence.” 

Bitsell brushed away the ash of his cigar 
and laid the stump carefully upon the edge 
of his desk. 

^‘When nature in all the ages trends a 
certain way, it 7neans something to people 
who think,” he muttered sotto voce, without 
looking up. 


94 ^bc Juggernaut of tbe /llboberns. 

“Life is a complex, two-sided thing, 
Brother ’Arland,” said the minister, taking 
no note of Bitsell’s remark. “ Wise men 
’ave failed, and ivill fail, to hexplain its 
strange duality. It will not do to let reason 
get the better of you. Follow your reason- 
ing hout to its legitimate conclusion, and it 
will lead you to free-love or Mormonism. 
If I were not a man with a wonderful hun- 
derstandingof the waysof the’uman ’eart,and 
with a broad and liberal mind towards my 
fellows, I should set you down as a wolf in 
sheep’s clothing.” 

Now on the question of man’s rights 
and liberties in sexual matters, the Rev. 
Mr. Cheeseberry was indeed a man of broad 
and liberal views. To doubt the Divinity 
of Christ, or to speak against the doctrine 
of election or reprobation, was, in the mind 
of this reverend gentleman, to sin against 
the Holy Ghost. If Harland had said so 
much against the theory of the Atonement 
as he had said against established opinions in 


Zb€ Juggernaut of tbe /iRo&erns. 95 

regard to the relation of the sexes, his pastor 
would have looked upon him as a natural 
brute beast made for the express purpose of 
being damned. 

Bitsell went to a desk and rummaging 
through a drawer brought out a package of 
papers. 

“ I want a copy of this, this afternoon. 
What’s Miss Huntley doing that she is not 
at the office ? ” 

He glared fiercely at Harland and stood 
with one thumb bent toward the back 
of his hand; that dislocated position of the 
thumb was always proof positive in the 
judge that he was out of humor. 

Harland saw the look of displeasure on 
his partner’s face, and he knew that it was 
not the absence of the stenographer which 
had nettled him. He understood full well 
that to Judge Bitsell the title of prelate, 
bishop, priest or presbyter meant servility 
to public opinion, bigotry, hypocrisy, and 
the most arrant kind of knavery. He knew 


96 Zbe Juggernaut of tbe flboOcrns. 

that in the man ordained to spread the gos- 
pel of the Christian religion, the judge in- 
variably detected a common enemy to the 
emancipation of mankind from traditional 
standards of right and wrong. Bitsell was 
secretly at war with everything connected 
with the present status of civilization, and 
traced all its wrongs and injustices to 
the door of the Christian religion. Harland, 
knowing the real cause of the scowl upon his 
brow, adroitly seized this opportunity to pass 
the subject by. 

“ She had hysterics last night,” he an- 
swered with an inflection that was a very 
skillful imitation of contempt. After a 
minute’s silence he looked up at the judge: 

“Say, Bitsell, you are something of a 
physician as well as a jurist; what is your 
diagnosis of her case ? ” 

Both look and tone conveyed the impres- 
sion that, on the subject, there could be no 
higher authority. 

Bitsell did not seem to follow the drift of 


trbe Juggernaut or tbe ^oberns. 97 

Harland’s words. He picked up what was 
left of his cigar and lighted it. After filling 
his mouth so full of smoke that it appeared 
to issue from all the openings in his head, 
he began: 

“ Miss Huntley is doubtless subject to 
severe headaches, impaired vision, nervous 
prostration, and a number of minor symp- 
toms too numerous to mention. She is by 
nature a person of strong constitution and 
these conditions, in one of her temperament 
and organization — ” 

He stopped and held the cigar for a long 
time between his teeth. His thoughts 
always flowed more freely when his head 
was enveloped in smoke. There seemed to 
be some element in the fumes of a cigar 
which opened his mind and loosened his 
tongue. He went on: 

“ Great heavens, think of the girl’s waist! 
It isn’t more than eighteen inches around, 
while her bust would measure fully three 
feet. And look at her feet! They are en- 


98 ;rbc juggernaut of tbe /Iboberne. 

cased in boots at least two sizes too small 
for her; the sole is thin and narrow, and the 
heel high and under the instep. Time and 
again I’ve stood behind that girl, when she 
did not know I was watching her, and tried 
to find out by a process of mathematical 
reasoning where she keeps her heart and 
lungs. With all her internal organs com- 
pressed and distorted, the question is how 
does she live, move and have her being? 
She will go to a physician, who will give 
her some powders and bromide, with the 
advice to be careful how she runs up and 
down stairs. He will laugh, of course, to 
himself; but he is not paid for telling 
women the truth.” 

Bitsell’si'ace had changed to the picture 
of despair. 

“Merciful Lord!” he added, “What an 
awful thing it would be to be a woman! 
Did you ever think of it, gentlemen? All 
the follies of civilization fall to woman’s lot, 
and she bears them.” 


tTbe Juggernaut of tbe flboberns. 99 

“ For my part I don’t care for a Venus de 
Milo waist,” interposed Harland, smiling 
and scratching his head. “ Give me every 
time a form that is neat, and sleek, and 
slender. It is probably not the best sort of 
thing for women’s health, or for posterity; 
but it is a deuced fine thing to look at and 
to hold in your arms.” 

They all got up at once in a burst of 
laughter; both Harland and the minister 
reached for their hats. 

“What’s going to happen next!” 
thundered Harland as, passing the window, 
he happened to glance down into the street. 
“ There goes Miss Huntley now down the 
street with Mrs. Wollesey!” 

“ There’s nothing alarming in that,” 
answered Bitsell going to the window and 
looking out at the two ladies as they 
whizzed past as if propelled by electricity. 
Mrs. Wollesey always drove furiously and 
gave a stranger, at first glance, the impres- 
sion that her horses were running away 
with her. 


lOO 


tTbc juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 


“ One characteristic of such troubles,” the 
judge continued after a little, ‘‘ is the speedy 
recovery which follows each attack.” 

Harland made no reply, but strode diag- 
onally across the floor, whistling on a high, 
sharp key, as if he had upon his mind some 
secret which it was very hard for him to 
keep and which, if he allowed his mouth to 
assume its normal position, would inadver- 
tently escape him. 


^Tbc juggernaut ot tbe /Bboberns. 


loi 


CHAPTER VIII. 

When Mrs. Wollesey, smiling and af- 
fectionate, called upon Catherine and 
asked her to drive with her, the latter could 
not refuse. She needed the air; she could 
invent no excuse; and she could not say 
that, having heard stories against Mrs. Wol- 
lesey’s character, she would rather not be 
seen in her company. 

Besides, if Mrs. Wollese}^ were a fit as- 
sociate in matters of business, why should 
she not drive or walk with her, or visit her? 
Men formed business partnerships, and 
entered into friendships, without inquiry 
into moral conditions; if she must make 
her own way in the world, doing man’s 
work and standing shoulder to shoulder 
with men, she could not occupy her mind 


102 


G:bc Juggernaut of tbe flboberns. 


with matters which interest only women of 
society and leisure. If all that had been 
told her was true, Mrs. Wollesey was no 
worse than Bitsell. Society tolerated and 
encouraged looseness on the part of men; 
why, merely because of a dissimilarity in 
sex, should it make any difference between 
two equally guilty of the same act? She 
had never pulled her skirts back in horror 
lest they should touch a brother man 
charged with this evil : she would not now 
question a thing which concerned only Mrs. 
Wollesey and her conscience. 

Catherine, wrapped carefully in furs, in- 
haling the breeze from the mountains and 
absorbing the splendor of the December 
sun, experienced that sense' of delicious 
languor which alwa3’s accompanies con- 
valescence. 

“We’ll take a drive to the canyons, if it 
is not too wearisome to 3^ou, Miss Huntley,” 
said Mrs. Wollesey, calling to Bixa and the 
bird dog, and making room for them at her 
feet. 


Ubc Juggernaut of tbe /BboOcrna. 


103 


Catherine looked at her companion, 
whose eyes were sparkling with innocent 
enjoyment. What a childish, innocent 
beauty this woman had! Could there be 
any truth in the stories she had heard 
against her character? Had she been the 
victim of a false and cruel slander, or was 
she one of those persons who can do the 
worst things in secret, and still look into 
your face with the smiles and innocence of 
youth? As these thoughts forced them- 
selves into her mind, she involuntary shiv- 
ered a little and drew herself back into the 
far corner of her seat. 

“ Are you not perfectly comfortable, my 
dear?” asked Mrs. Wollesey, tucking the 
robes snug and fast around her, and 
smiling all the while with a sweetness 
which made her friend wish that she were 
anywhere on the face of the earth, at that 
moment, except by the side of this fascin- 
ating and peculiar little woman. 

They drove off at a fast rate over the 


104 n:bc juggernaut of tbc /Diobcrns. 

crisp snow which glistened like a bed of crys- 
tals in the sunlight. Until Buffalo lay at some 
distance behind them, Mrs. Wollesey sat 
very quiet, with only an occasional term of 
endearment addressed to her horses. 

Pretty soon she looked back toward the 
town, as it lay breaking the monotony of the 
white landscape bounded all around by the 
horizon. 

“ I don’t care for the society of very 
many people. Miss Huntley,” she observed 
slowly tapping her horses with the point of 
her whip. “ But, from the day I called 
upon you at the office, I have so much longed 
to know you better! Your temperament, 
your disposition, your hair are all 
like Thornby’s — Oh, I beg your par- 
don ; you don’t know who Thornby is ! It 
really seems tome. Miss Huntley, that I have 
always known you. At first glance, I like 
or dislike ever3^one I meet with a terrible 
intensity; and you are one of the favored 


ones. 


^bc juggernaut of tbc /iRoDcrns. 105 

She smiled that indescribably winning 
little smile and bent her face quite close to 
Catherine’s. 

“Oh, Catherine! I want a friend, a dear 
lady friend; and since I left the East, I have 
had no intimacy at all with women. The 
Western women don’t suit me a bit, not 
even a little bit. They are all a set of gos- 
sips and scandal-mongers. They don’t 
seem to have any higher aim than to hunt 
for ugly stories and scatter them broadcast 
over the town and country.” 

Touched by her confiding ways and ten- 
der tones Catherine replied: 

“ I hope I may not be unworthy of any 
confidence you may place in me, Mrs. 
Wollesey, but I cannot promise an exchange 
of sympathies.” 

Slipping her arm around Catherine’s waist 
she looked for a long time straight into her 
face. The girl sat cold and reserved, her 
eyes resting on a little “ dug-out ” near by. 

“ Some people have slandered me, Miss 


io6 Zlbe ^uflflcrnaut of tbe /Robcrns. 

Huntley, and you have heard of it! ” Her 
voice sounded keen and cold and discordant. 
Catherine glanced at her, and saw on her 
features the same expression that she had 
noticed the day she had become so infuriated 
at Richmond. 

‘‘Slandered me! I’m ten thousand miles 
above any woman who dares to cast insinua- 
tions at me. I tower heights and heights 
above them all. I never harmed a fellow- 
creature in my life; I never deceived or 
defrauded a human being; I’d not even kill 
a Jly or murder a snake. I live a life of the 
strictest honesty and morality; but because 
my ideas differ from those around me, 
because my rule of right and wrong is not 
popular, they will dare to whisper things 
against my character. But, thank the Lord ! 
I can live above it all. I have my home 
and my store, and my dogs, and my dear little 
Richmond, and that is all the world to me.” 

“What are your notions of morality, 
Mrs. Wollesey, that they differ from 
established opinions ? ” 


Zbc juggernaut of tbc ^oDcrns. 


107 


“ I wonder if you are sufficiently educated 
to understand me? Tradition and training 
are queer things; you might shrink away 
from me in horror, if I should tell you what 
I honestly and conscientiously believe.” 

“ I will at any rate give you credit for 
being true to your convictions of right and 
wrong, and for placing yourself in your 
true position after what has been said about 
you and Bitsell,” rejoined Catherine. 

Mrs. Wollesey’s face contracted as if she 
were suffering intense pain in mind or body. 

“ In order for you to understand,” she 
said, ‘‘ I must go back and give you some 
idea of my former life. I have been edu- 
cated in the world. Miss Huntley; I was mar- 
ried when I was only seventeen, and — and — 
found myself a widow at the age of twenty- 
two. My husband was a merchant and, 
when I found that through dissipation and 
mismanagement he had run through nearly 
all we had, I went to his creditors and asked 
them to give me time to put the house on 


io8 Q:bc Juggernaut of tbc /IboDerns. 

its feet again. A widow, young and good- 
looking, of course in every instance it was 
granted to me. So I went into the store, 
performed the work of three salesmen, kept 
my own books, and saved the reputation of 
the house. In two years, from being a 
widow ten thousand dollars worse off than 
nothing, I was a woman of power and 
influence in the world of business. 

“ I spoke of Thornby; it makes no differ- 
ence who or what he was — he has controlled 
my life and made my destiny. I have 
always loved him, rascal and knave that he 
is, and I always shall. Ah, we women 
can’t control these things. Miss Huntley!” 
And she lapsed into a short silence in which 
she seemed to forget what she had started 
out to say. 

“ I’ll get around to tell you after a while,” 
she presently resumed. “ I sold out and 
came to this place five years ago, and soon 
formed a friendship with Bitsell. He fell 
violently in love with me and, for two years. 


G:bc juggernaut of tbc ^oberne. 109 

he was the most devoted admirer a woman 
ever had. But I broke his heart. Thornby 
had found out where I was and he came to 
see me. I thought I loved Bitsell, but at 
sight of Thornby all the old love came back 
in all its intensity. So I told Bitsell that I 
never had cared for him as I should, that I 
had always loved Thornby; that my regard 
for him was only an intense respectful 
friendship, I had always loved Thornby — 
the dog! ” 

Putting her handkerchief to her face she 
sobbed bitterly. Catherine took her hand, 
and leaned over and kissed her. 

“ It ended,” Mrs. Wollesey continued, 
“ by Thornby going to Europe, and Bitsell 
plunging into a debauch of three weeks’ 
duration. When he recovered he wanted 
to marry me and I consented. I was all in 
readiness, dressed and waiting for the minis- 
ter; but when the judge came to lead me 
from the room, I could not go. I could not 
do a thing that my whole nature revolted 


1 lO 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 


against. I swore, then and there, no man 
should ever own me, mind, body and soul, 
with my property, too, as he would under a 
union sanctioned by existing laws and cus- 
toms.” 

A long silence followed, broken b}^ Cather- 
ine who questioned: 

“ Then you don’t love Bitsell ? ” 

“Yes, I love him; I love them both! If I 
never saw Thornby again, I might be quite 
happy with Bitsell. Bitsell has more honor 
than Thornby, I can trust him; but Thornby, 
the infernal knave — I wish I had killed 
him years ago!” 

-Catherine asked, “ Then why don’t you 
end it all by marrying the judge? ” 

“ I would marry no man after prescribed 
methods; I have all my life been an ob- 
server of people and things, and I can 
no more help thinking independently than 
water can keep from running downhill. 
Things present themselves to me in lights 
and colors that I must see; not to see them 


ZTbc juggernaut of tbe iHboberns. 


Ill 


would be to turn against the best and high- 
est part of my nature. When I was a child 
my father fell in love with another woman; 
mother knew it, but like thousands of 
others she was helpless. I asked her once 
if she thought God had joined her and 
father together, and told her I hardl}' 
thought He had, or father would not give 
her so much trouble over other women. 
She reprimanded me severely, but somehow 
that idea never left me. Harland’s a fair 
sample. A firm believer in the orthodox 
religion, he sends his wife away and amuses 
himself by making love to foolish women. 
Yes, he’s a fair sample, no better and no 
worse; but the funny idea is, that he thinks 
marriage is a divine institution.” 

She tossed her head to one side and shook 
her curls ironically. 

“ It’s very evident,” she went on, “ that 
the orthodox God is a man, my dear. Did 
you ever notice. Miss Huntley, that one 
man is not enough for one woman Did 


II2 


JLbc Juggernaut of tbe /llbobcrns. 


you ever wonder why, if God instituted the 
marriage right, men must have a plurality 
of wives, or a harem, or a house of prosti- 
tution? If it is right and natural for men 
not to control their propensities in this di- 
rection, is the same indulgence on the part 
of women wrong? Have you ever thought 
of these things. Miss Huntley?” 

After another pause she continued: 

“ I told you that I refused to marry the 
judge; I mean, I refused to allow a min- 
ister to perform the ceremony. I told him, 
if he would marry me after my own fash- 
ion, I would become his wife. So we 
entered into a contract, for a limited time, 
performing our own ceremony. Miss 
Huntley, I believe that no priest, judge or 
justice of the peace has the God-given 
right to read a form of words in the pres- 
ence of witnesses and so compel people to 
live together the remainder of their natural 
days. In my heart I have no respect for 
the thing called society. It is all a gilded, 


Zhc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 113 

rotten sham. It is built upon a basis which 
makes men and women false to the truest 
instincts of their nature. It draws lines 
and erects standards which force human 
beings into deceit and intrigue. If a few 
empty words have been said by some one 
representing the church or state, two per- 
sons are man and wife, though they may 
have nothing in common except the shack- 
les which bind them. The state thinks it is 
better that children shall be brought into 
the world in the lust sanctioned by law, 
than in the love which it brands as illicit. 
Look at Harland, his wife and family; 
there is positively no respect or love on 
either side. She has long ago ceased to 
worry over his love-affairs and flirtations, 
and concerns herself only with her children. 
Ah me! will the world ever see things be- 
low the surface.^” 

“ What will you do,” asked Catherine, 
speaking as if her thoughts had drifted into 
some channel far away, “when you grow 


1 14 tTbe juggernaut of tbc /Roberns. 

old and your beauty fades, and the judge 
tires of you, and — ” 

“And what?” shrieked Mrs. Wollesey, 
her whole attitude changed, her face dis- 
torted with an expression of rage and hor- 
ror. 

“ I was wondering,” pursued Catherine, 
still looking at the air trembling on the 
white hills in the distance, “ what you would 
do if the judge ever tired of you. Even hus- 
bands tire of their wives, and you would 
have nothing to hold him by if he became 
infatuated with another woman.” 

Mrs. Wollesey squared herself around so 
that she could look her companion full in the 
face. 

“ The very fact^’’ she said, “ that he does 
not hold me chained to him by the law, will 
make him fear to 1-ose me. He will not 
become infatuated with another woman, 
because I should then be free to love another 
man. You see, I am in no manner depen- 
dent upon him. I have money, freedom 


G:bc Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 115 

and power. I have a home of my own, a 
lucrative business, and am all around as in- 
dependent of him as he is of me.” 

“Then, too, what opportunities in life 
would children born of such a union have, 
when custom and law branded them as 
illegitimate?” Catherine went on. 

“That is something that humanity must 
suffer — and outgrow; that it will sometime 
look back upon with shame and horror,” 
returned Mrs. Wollesey, her features com- 
ing back to their usual expression. 

She said no more, but leaned against the 
back of the seat and drove rapidly along for 
some time. Suddenl}' she turned to Cather- 
ine with a vehemence which startled her 
and, throwing both arms about her waist, 
exclaimed : 

“ Oh, Miss Huntley, tell me that you think 
I am a virtuous woman. I am, I am, I 
swear that I am! Why, I would die before 
I would let another man even put his arms 
around me. I am as pure and as innocent 


ii6 XLbc Juggernaut of tbe /iboberns. 

as you are. Tell me that you will not let 
this difference of opinion stand between us. 
Tell me that 3'ou will not, Catherine, tell 
me ! ” 

I shall alwa^^s respect 3’ou for 3'our can- 
dor, and from this time 3^011 may count upon 
my friendship,” answered Catherine softl3'. 

Mrs. Wollesey’s arms tightened convul- 
sivel3^ around her friend’s waist as she laid 
her head on her shoulder and sobbed. 


Zbe Juggernaut of tbe /Bboberne. 


117 


CHAPTER IX. 

The vigilant eye of Mrs. Grundy never 
sleeps. On the night of Catherine’s illness, 
two men lounging on the corner of the 
street had observed her leaving the store. 
With the curiosity common to men of their 
t3-pe, they seated themselves at some dis- 
tance from the street door to await devel- 
opments. They followed Ilarland when 
he went into the saloon. The}' saw him 
purchase a flask, and returning carry Cath- 
erine to the carriage he had ordered. Soon 
around this kernel of truth grew a scandal 
of amazing proportions. The theme of the 
hour was Catherine Huntley. Her name 
was passed from mouth to mouth in stores 
and offices. On the street this episode was 
told and retold, taking on new colors and 


ii8 Zbe Juggernaut ot tbe /Ibobcrns. 

swelling to greater proportions. At the 
saloon men spoke of her as Mrs. Harland 
Number Two. In the unfolding of the 
scandal a new story had been brought to 
light. Intending to blind society by a pre- 
tense at employment she had deserted her 
husband, a prominent man in the East, and 
had come here to enjoy the company of 
Harland, who by previous arrangement had 
sent his wife to Chicago. 

While Buffalo society entertained itself 
with this story, an event happened which 
will illustrate the extent to which calumny 
can besmirch the reputation and its object 
remain in ignorance of the taint so obvious 
to lookers-on. 

Leaving the office a little later than 
usual, Catherine passed the bank that she 
had entered on her arrival at Buffalo. Mr. 
McAnnulty, the president and the owner of 
the pale face and dark brows, seeing her go 
by, made shift to follow. It was nearly 
seven o’clock; the electric lights shutout 


n:bc Juggernaut of tbc Weberns. 119 

the approaching darkness. Stepping into 
the post office she had mailed a package of 
letters, when a warm hand was laid upon 
her shoulder. 

Turning around she beheld Mr. McAn- 
nulty and gave him a glad smile of recog- 
nition. A member of the church to which 
she belonged as he was, and holding a dea- 
conship in that organization as he did, she 
returned his greeting without reserve. Ex- 
pecting an invitation to assist in a coming 
festival or to help in some enterprise for 
the betterment of the poorer classes, she 
stood waiting for him to speak. 

‘‘Do you ever go out evenings.^” He 
bent his face so close to her own that she 
felt his hot breath upon her cheek. 

She looked up wonderingly. 

“ Do I ever go out evenings.^ ” 

Taking her by the arm he shook it 
fiercely. “Hush!” he whispered. 

His eyes were gleaming with a fierce 
light which struck her heart with terror. 


120 ;rbc Juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrns. 

With the swiftness of a hunted animal she 
wrenched herself from his grasp and hur- 
ried toward home. That night she never 
closed her eyes in sleep. Naturally high- 
minded and pure-souled as she was, her 
self-respect had received a wound which 
she would not soon forget. Reverting to 
memory she sought some excuse on her 
part or his. Perhaps at some former time 
she had treated him with more kindness 
than conventionality would permit and he 
had misjudged her. Here she reflected 
that she had heard him in his pleas to the 
Throne of Grace hold the little assembly 
spell-bound by the fervor of his eloquence. 
As she thought of his thrilling and fervent 
utterances which had seemed to burn their 
way to all hearts, and of the earnest ‘amens ’ 
of the audience, she groaned aloud : 

“O, dear God! are they all dross and 
veneering? Is there no virtue but wom- 
an’s? No man as pure as we — not even 
those who have been washed in the blood 
of Thy Son?” 


Hbc 3u0gcrnaut of tbc /llbobcrns. 121 

At length she determined never by look 
or word to recognize him again; never on 
the street, or at church, or in society. A 
resolve which she carried out, much to the 
discomfiture of Mr. McAnnulty. 


122 


^bc juggernaut ot tbe /BboDerns. 


CHAPTER X. 

Since the night that Harland had brought 
Catherine home ill, he had moved and 
thought like one who had been hypnotized. 
He seemed lifted away from and beyond him- 
self into a region which he dared not 
explore. A passion amounting to madness 
had come into his heart, and he no longer 
tried to control it. He had held her small 
hands; he had stroked her bright hair; he 
had pressed his lips to her white brow. 
Never again could he meet her and live in 
the same room from day to day as he had 
done in the past. 

Catherine now at her accustomed place, 
he strode back and forth over the floor with 
the unrest of a wild animal caged. There 
was something fierce and tiger-like in his 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /llboberno. 123 

looks which filled her with a nervous fear 
that she could not analyze or explain. His 
manners were strained and unnatural, and 
he only spoke on matters of business. 

Her day’s work done, she had started 
toward the door, when Harland stepping 
out quickly from behind his desk, followed 
her. 

‘‘ Miss Huntley,” he said. 

She turned half-way around, and he 
slipped between her and the door. Lifting 
her eyes to his face, which was white and 
full of passion, she started, but did not 
speak. For a minute each stood gazing 
into the eyes of the other, Catherine strok- 
ing the long fur on her muff, and Harland 
stroking his upper lip. 

“ Mr. Harland, what — what — ” 

Her eyes were very bright in spite of 
their embarrassment, and her cheek paled 
and reddened by turns. He advanced a few 
steps and stood face to face with her. 

“Oh, Miss Huntley, Catherine; if I only 
dared — ” 


124 ^bc Juggernaut of tbc ^oDcrns. 

His voice failed him. Coming to her side 
with a sudden bound, he took her in his 
arms and drew her up close to his side, 
pressing his face against her own. As if 
maddened by his audacity, she thrust him 
from her with twice her usual strength and, 
springing toward a chair which stood near, 
she stood at its back, panting with indigna- 
tion. 

“How could you dare; how could you 
dare, sir, to take liberties with me ? ” 

“ Miss Huntley, it is not a liberty. I — 
I — oh, heavens! can’t — ” 

“ Stop, stop,” she cried. “ I will not 
listen; you can have nothing to say to me 
that I will hear. Mr. Harland, open the 
door for me; open the door! ” 

Without another word he walked to the 
door and flung it open. 

“You would not listen to me yesterday; 
will you hear me now? May I tell you 
something of myself, something in justifica- 


Zbe Juggernaut of tbc /iBoDerns. 125 

tion of my conduct toward you last night? ” 

He unlocked a drawer and, binding a 
package of papers and legal documents 
together with a rubber band, he laid them 
away, his eyes all the while fixed on the 
papers before him. When he had locked 
the drawer again he came up and sat down 
by her side. 

“ Let us never refer to it again. I under- 
stand, and words are useless, Mr. Harland.” 

Her manners were frigid, and her tones 
were cold and contemptuous. 

“ No, you don’t understand, and words 
are not useless. How could you under- 
stand ? I will be heard, and you are going 
to listen.” 

He spoke firmly, never taking his eyes 
from her face. She winced, and made a 
gesture as if she were going to get up. He 
reached over and laid his hand on her 
shoulder. 

‘^Listen; you have misunderstood me, 
and you shall not move until you have 


126 XLbe juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 

heard me through. Miss Huntley, I am 
not the deep-dyed scoundrel, the bloated 
sensualist, that my talk has led you to be- 
lieve. Let me give you a sketch of my 
early life, so you will not mistake me. 

‘‘I was brought up by Christian parents; 
my father a minister, I had the best of 
moral training and the best of examples set 
before me. I am the oldest of five boys, 
and, having no sisters, I was educated as 
carefully as a girl. I was taught to play 
the piano, not allowed to dance or play 
cards, and hedged and compassed about by 
every environment that would make me a 
gentleman and a Christian. My mother 
instructed me in morals, but she never told 
rrie there was any harm in being on terms 
of intimacy with the other sex. She never 
told me it was wrong for me to put my 
arms around a girl’s waist and kiss her if 
she would let me. And you — you could 
never understand how easily and naturally 
some girls will fall into a fellow’s arms, and 


tTbe juggernaut of tbc /iboberns. 127 

what inducements some of them hold out 
to make a fellow lose his senses.” 

He stopped for a minute and then con- 
tinued : 

“ At the age of eighteen my parents 
placed me in college, and there I met two 
girls who helped to mould my future actions 
and opinions. One of them was a blonde 
with yellow hair and a baby face. She was 
the daughter of the president of the college. 
The other was the minister’s daughter. 
They were both church members, and girls 
of culture and high standing in society. 
They both allowed me any privilege that I 
chose to take. They saw no reason why we 
should not enjoy ourselves by kisses and 
embraces, and I — of course I was bound to 
go as far as they would let me. 

“ I left college with high honors at the age 
of twenty-two, and my parents cast about 
for a suitable helpmeet for me. My mother 
sent for the girl she wanted me to marry, 
and she spent the summer with us. We 


128 Z\ic juggernaut of tbc /Robcrno. 

played, sang, walked, drove, and made love 
together. We courted far into the night 
and she never denied me any kindness that 
I demanded. After we had become engaged 
I met the girl I afterwards married. It was 
at a picnic and she was visiting her sister 
who lived in the same town with us. Shy, 
modest and sweet-looking, she never 
seemed to know what I meant when I tried 
to flirt with her. After she returned home, 
I followed her and asked her if she would 
marry me; she accepted me, and I insisted 
upon a speedy ceremony. But I had to 
return to m}^ father’s and, just before leav- 
ing home, the other girl got wind of my 
intentions and tried to stop me. Ashamed 
of the way I had treated her, I would have 
married her; but she showed such a violent 
disposition, she disgusted me. So I married 
the woman who is now Mrs. Harland. 

“ The other girl followed me and begged 
me to elope with her. She loved me des- 
perately, and I found out too late that I 


Zbc Juggernaut ot tbc flboberns. 129 

cared more for her than I had thought I did. 
My wife was jealous of her and, between 
the two, my life was an endeavor to keep 
myself balanced — something like a man 
walking a tight-rope — till a son was born. 
That put an end to my half-formed plan for 
a separation. So I pulled up the next year 
and came out here. The other girl would 
not give me up. Flattered by her constancy 
and impetuosity, I planned to meet her at 
Omaha and to start from there for California. 
The judge caught on to my plan and talked 
me out of it, so I came back to settle down 
and atone for my frailties. But something 
had been awakened in me that would not 
be put down. I felt that I had never sown 
my wild oats, and that I could never settle 
down until I had. Other men had seen 
life and had had experiences, I didn’t want 
to be cheated out of my rights ; I have some- 
times thought I would travel under an 
assumed name for two or three years, and 
get every thing out of life that I could. If 


130 Cbc juggernaut of tbc /iboberns. 

I could spend a few years in Italy or Greece, 
living just as passion or caprice might dic- 
tate, then I could come home and make a 
first-class husband of myself.” 

Catherine shuddered at his words and, 
looking into his eyes, wondered how they 
could seem so clear and honest. Surely he 
was not so bad a man as he had made him- 
self out to be. He winced under her fear- 
less gaze, but continued: 

“Never having been denied any of the 
kindnesses which you call liberties, posses- 
sing an ardent and affectionate nature, my 
wife gone and home entirely lonely and 
cheerless, do you wonder that I forgot and 
stepped over the line that conventionality 
marks out for the sexes? ” 

She bent forward, her elbows ort the desk 
and her head on her hand. Nothing in her 
face gave him any clue to her thoughts. 

“What have you to say to me now. Miss 
Huntley ?” he asked, scanning her closely. 
“You will certainly forgive me for doing a 


;rbc Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 131 

thing that is as natural as the turning of a 
tiower toward the sun, especially after I 
have shown you that environment is respon- 
sible for what has so shocked and angered 
you. Ah, if other girls had been like you 
I might have been different! but — ” 

She sprang to her feet, her eyes intense, 
her nostrils quivering. 

“Send for your wife, Mr. Harland; send 
for your wife ! ” 

An intonation in her voice told him that 
it would not be well for him to carry the 
conversation further. 

“ Mrs. Harland will be home to-morrow,” 
he said peevishly; “but what has that to 
do with this affair? ” 

“A wife should not leave a husband like 
you to the mercies of the wicked world, un- 
less it was a final leave-taking; which in 
my opinion, Mr. Harland, it would be a 
very commendable step for your wife to 
take.” 

“ How could she expect me to do any 


132 ^be juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 

differently, when she insists on staying 
with her mother six months out of every 
year or two ? ” 

He did not wait for further comments, 
but got up and went out, slamming the 
door like an angry child. 


Zbc Juggernaut ot tbe /Iboberne. 


133 • 


CHAPTER XL 

In the weeks that had passed neither 
Catherine nor Harland had, by word or in- 
sinuation, reverted to the conversation re- 
corded in the last chapter. By a sort of 
tacit consent the whole matter was dropped 
on both sides. The’ sentimental badinage 
which he had from the first directed toward 
her had now given place to a respectful and 
honest interest. He lost no opportunity to 
show her that he wished to redeem himself 
in her estimation. He watched over her 
health as he would a sister’s, seeing that she 
did no more than was absolutely necessary 
to be done; if an unusual amount of work 
was to be performed, he remained at the 
office and did a part of it himself. 

Indeed, he had come to regard her with 
the awe which a man experiences when the 


134 ^be 5u00crnaut o( tbe /Bbobcrns. 

woman he admires keeps him at a distance. 
Ay, it was something more than awe; it 
was that blind and reverential worship 
which men, bowing in humility of spirit, 
always give to purity. Catherine from the 
high plane on which she stood looked down 
and beheld the change. He had done the 
right thing to enlist her interest. And, 
looking at him in this new character, she 
saw that there was much about him after all 
that was commendable, in spite of his opin- 
ions and theories, in spite of his evident lack 
of principle where women were concerned. 
In fact, this was the only thing in his make- 
up which she did not admire; but she had 
been taught that this was pardonable, as men 
are expected to take advantage of women 
whenever a chance of doing so is given 
them. They are not like women, and 
are not to be blamed for a thing that is 
natural. Still, a dim wonder drifted into 
her mind — so dim that it took no definite 
shape or color — why this should be so, and 


Zbe juggernaut of tbc /lioOerne. 135 

why the same tendency in a woman is a sin 
which society refuses to pardon. 

Yes, there was everything in him that a 
woman could admire; his marked person- 
ality, the magnetism of his voice and words, 
the fineness of his sensibilities, his wit, his 
ready flow of ideas and, above all, the frank- 
ness and boldness of his manners and speech. 

Often looking up from her work she had 
met a face so penitent and so pleading, that 
her heart smote her for her indifference 
toward him. Once he had called her to his 
side to mark some changes in a copy of 
papers, and she had stood a little behind 
him. He went on making erasures and 
interlineations while she scanned him closely. 
What a well-balanced and intellectual head ! 
The contour of the face was perfect! Round 
and full, it had not a mark of sensuality 
upon it. What a perfect picture of manly 
health and manly strength ! 

As these thoughts formed themselves in 
her mind, there welled up in her heart an 


136 ^Cbc Juggernaut of tbc flboberno. 

impulse which struck her with a nameless 
fear: it was an overpowering desire to put 
her arms around his neck and kiss him! 
Handing her the papers Harland glanced up. 
In his face she saw reflected as in a mirror 
the thoughts that filled her own mind and 
heart. For a minute she was so terrified 
that she stood still. Then her face hardened 
like stone, and she took the papers from 
his hand and went to the machine. Har- 
land walked out in profound silence. By 
that strange psycho-magnetic force which 
is a part of the attraction between the sex- 
es, he knew that her will could now be 
dominated by his own, should he choose to 
exert his powers upon her. Left to her- 
self, Catherine leaned her head upon her 
arms and thought. 

Her reverie was soon broken by a loud 
whoop and hurrah on the stairway. A kick 
and a scramble at the door, and two small 
lads, miniature duplicates of Harland, 
stumbled in, one just behind the other. 


XLbc juggernaut of the ^oOerns. 137 

^‘Y-ip, y-ip! Paw, dinner’s ready! Maw 
says come right now, er the meat ’ll git cold.” 

At this announcement the speaker gave a 
series of jumps, bounding like a rubber ball. 
Perceiving Catherine, the little fellows 
stepped sheepishly forward; the larger of 
the two pulled off his cap and held it with 
both hands. 

‘‘ Whur’s paw ? Maw wan’s ’im.” 

His tone had fallen about an octave be- 
low its former key. 

“Your papa is at the courthouse,” said 
Catherine. “Won’t you sit down and wait 
a little bit? He’ll be back pretty soon.” 
Somehow, at sight of these two hoydenish 
lads with their upturned and freckled noses, 
there gathered in her heart a heaviness 
which almost dazed and stupefied her. The 
lads perched themselves upon the extreme 
edge of two chairs and glanced about the 
room as if everything therein was new and 
strange. 

“ What are your names, boys ? ” queried 
Catherine. 


trbc juggernaut of tbc fliioberns. 


138 

'‘^My name’s John, an’ /^2Vn’s Ted.” 

“ Do you go to school, Johnny? ” 

‘‘Yes, I go tu school; but Ted here, ’e 
ain’t big ’nough. ’E goes tu kindergarten.” 

“ How old are you, boys?” 

“I’m half-past six; ’n’ Ted, ’e’s five next 
May.” 

After this conversation the boys felt con- 
siderably emboldened, and slipped from the 
edge of their chairs on tiptoe to the window. 

“ It’s jis’ like paw,” growled John, his lip 
pulled- down dejectedly. “ ’E ain’t no good 
fer anything, no how; all he thinks uv ’s 
the saloon. ’E’s always hangin’ ’round the 
streets, an’ out o’ nights an’ never tu home, 
an’ ’e ain’t any good on earth only tu make 
trouble.” 

“ Why, Johnnie,” exclaimed Catherine, 
“ how you do talk ! Who have you heard 
say such dreadful things about your papa? ” 

“ Maw does ; ’n’ paw’s not good to her^ 
either. They fuss and fuss, ’n’ paw won’t 
come home fer supper, ’n’ when ’e does 


Zbe Juggernaut of tbe /iRoberns. 


139 


come home at night, maw raises Ned wi’ 
’im, I can tell ye! ’N’ in the mornin’ when 
paw wan’s tu sleep, maw tells me an’ Ted 
an’ Dolly tu go in an’ make the fur fly. ’E 
don’t need no sleep, paw don’t! ” 

John now began to move cautiously about 
the room in search of something to amuse 
himself with. He proceeded to the middle 
door, which opened into a sort of storeroom, 
and looked in. He motioned to Ted. 

-After rummaging among some wood and 
boxes they soon emerged with two huge box- 
ing gloves and a shingle. In a few minutes 
all timidity had fled and they were in a 
hand-to-hand encounter with the gloves. 
Their fun was interrupted by the minister, 
the Rev. Mr. Cheeseberry, who put his 
head in through the open door and asked 
for Harland. 

“Come in,” said Catherine laughing, 
“ Mr. Harland will be back soon, he always 
comes in about noon.” 

Mr. Cheeseberry came in and shook hands 
ver}^ tenderly with Catherine. 


140 Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /iboOcrns. 

‘‘ This is a beautiful day, miss, a beautiful 
day. The Lord is habundantly blessing hus, 
habundantly.” 

He laid his silk hat upon the table, and with 
both hands straightened out the long, sharp 
ends of his mustache. Catherine looked at 
his chin and shiny hair, and a strange sus- 
picion flitted like a shadow across her mind. 

“Wat’s your name, miss?” he asked, 
rubbing his hands together in a very rapid 
and jerky manner. “ You will hexcuse me, 
please, but I really can’t bring it to mind 
just now.” 

“ Huntley.” 

“ Ah yes, ’Untley, ’Untley. Where are 
you from. Miss ’Untley? I used to know 
’Untleys in Canada.” 

“ Ohio.” 

“ Oh yes, so you hare, so you hare ; hex- 
cuse me, but I meet so many people that it 
is ’ard to keep track of these things.” 

Catherine thought that, from the study he 
had made of her face and figure during this 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbc iHboDccns. 


141 

talk, at their next meeting he would reeog- 
nize her without difficult}’. 

“ I am right glad to see you, Brother 
Cheeseberry,” exclaimed Ilarland, coming 
in and extending his hand; “right glad to 
see you, indeed. If there is a tender spot 
anywhere in my heart, a specially tender 
spot, it is for a minister. My father and 
my grandfather lived and died in the minis- 
try, and I came within one of being a 
preacher myself.” 

The minister rubbed his hands together, 
this time as if he were stroking a piece of 
fur, and cast a shrewd, oblique look at Cath- 
erine. 

“ You’re not quite sure. Brother ’Arland, 
but the tenderest spot in your ’art is — for — 
a right — good-looking girl.” 

He slapped Harland’s shoulder and guf- 
fawed loudly. 

“Yes, Brother Cheeseberry, I’m as fond 
of a pretty girl as — a preacher.” 

“ So Mrs. ’Arland’s at ’ome again,” said 


142 Zbe juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 

Cheeseberry, not noticing Harland’s repar- 
tee; “I suppose you will settle down now 
to behaving yourself?” 

“Behave myself? Don’t I always behave 
myself? Who knows anything to the con- 
trary, I’d like to know ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve ’eard,” returned the minister, 
glancing slyly toward the typewriter, “that 
there is a girl that you ’ave behaved pretty 
badly to. But then I don’t believe it, 
Brother ’Arland, it’s all a bit of gossip. 
People will talk and, of course, they will 
not spare you. Brother ’Arland. I think ’e’s 
a pretty line fellow, don’t yhu. Miss ’Unt- 
ley? ’E’s the best member we’ve got in the 
church; I don’t know what we’d do without 
’im. ’E’s the chief corner stone and the 
mainstay — ” 

“ Soft soap, soft soap, elder,” interposed 
Harland satirically. 

“No, it’s not. Brother ’Arland ; no, it’s 
not. And, by the way, I dropped in to see 
if you could ’elp hus hout in paying for the 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbe /Roberns. 143 

new bell at the church. There is fifty dol- 
lars back and they will not wait hon hus hany 
longer. I told the committee that I’d call 
’ere and see what yott could do for hus, 
Brother ’Arland.” 

The attorney wrote out a check. 

“ Here’s a check for twent3’-live dollars, 
and here is the rest in money.” 

“You will be sure and come to the ’and- 
kerchief festival, Wednesday night. Brother 
’Arland. The ladies hexpect to get enough 
hout hof the net proceeds to pa}’ for the new 
carpet,” said the pastor, pocketing the 
mone}" and moving in the direction of the 
door. 

All this time John and Ted had remained 
ver}’ quiet. They had found a uniform suit 
which their father had worn in some pri- 
vate theatricals, and John, arrayed in coat 
and cap with a gun over his shoulder, 
walked tragically from the storeroom. Be- 
hind him came Ted, a wig placed awr}’ upon 
his head and a long, curling mustache stuck 


144 Juggernaut ot tbc /ibobcrns. 

upon his upper lip. In exploring the ar- 
chives of the room he had found a pair of 
old boots and was shuffling along in them as 
fast as their size would permit. 

“You young scoundrels!” thundered 
their father, seizing John by the nape of the 
neck. “ What on earth are you doing here? 
Pull off those traps as quick as your hands 
’ll let you, do you hear? What in the name 
of heaven does it all mean?” He turned 
to Catherine, but she was laughing un- 
controllably. “ Go home at once, young 
men, both of you, right now; both of 
you ! ” 

Ted shrieked with terror, and John bawled 
out, “ Maw says fer you tu come right now, 
er the meat ’ll git cold.” Then he broke into 
a tempest of sobs. “She’ll whip us, she’ll 
whip us! Come on, Ted, quick.” 

“ Take those traps off, and don’t go 
down the street bawling like that,” roared 
the father, snatching the things from them 
and leading them to the door. 


^Tbc JugGernaut of tbc /Bboberns. 


145 


Catherine, ready for the street, stepped 
out laughing. Harland was too much an- 
noyed to see the ludicrous side, as they 
walked on together in silence. 

“I have no use for two small boys. Miss 
Huntley,” he began impatiently, ‘‘ I don’t 
see why a fellow has to be burdened with 
them. They are the bane of my existence. 
Ever since their advent my wife has never 
been to me what she was before. I like the 
two younger ones, the girls; they are 
sweet little things. I wish you could see 
Dolly; she is not anything like those two 
young imps ahead there. For my part, I 
don’t see what children are for, unless they 
are to take a woman’s love away from her 
husband.” 

Here they met a man who wanted to see 
Harland on a matter of some importance 
and Catherine walked on. 


146 


?Ibc juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 


.CHAPTER XII. 

The evening of the handkerchief festival 
dawned cold and clear. A crisp wind as 
keen as the edge of a knife blew down from 
the hills. All about and in the church was 
bustle and confusion. Squads of young 
people, very young people, wandered idly 
up and down the street before the church, 
waiting for the crowd to gather. Busy 
women flitted in and out of the buildjing 
working like so many beavers. It was 
almost time for supper to be served. Men, 
sleek and well dressed, began to drop in by 
ones and twos. Young couples sidled in 
arm-in-arm and took seats at the far end of 
the room. The pews had all been removed 
from the church, and in their places stood 
long rows of tables covered with snowy 
linen, fairly swaying beneath the loads of 


^bc Jugcjernaut of tbe /Dboberns. 


147 


buns and biscuits which none but a com- 
mittee on tables know how to prepare. 
Around the boards fluttered and fussed a 
number of ladies, some spreading napkins, 
some arranging dishes, some carving fowls, 
and all working as if the fate of the nation 
hung upon the success of the evening’s 
entertainment. In the rear of the room 
buzzed several young girls making a display 
of the evening’s commodity by the aid of 
wires stretched from one end of the room 
to the other. Handkerchifs in all sizes and 
of every variety hung from the wires, while 
each girl wore at her throat a smart little 
bow of chiffon^ and an old-fashioned wide 
linen kerchief pinned to her waist for an 
apron. 

It was somewhat late when Harland, in 
company with Catherine, came in and took 
a table a little aside from the main part of 
the company. By the time they were well 
seated all eyes were leveled upon them. The 
general whispering, nudging and shaking 


148 Zhc Juggernaut of tbc ^oDerns. 

of heads which followed were not noticed 
by either Catherine or Harland. As soon 
as they had entered, Cheeseberry made shift 
to seek them with a profuse welcome, accom- 
panied by vigorous shakes of the hand and 
numerous slaps on the shoulder. His eyes 
rested with something more than clerical 
interest on the young girl dressed in soft 
lavender cashmere, a black cape around her 
shoulders, and a little turban adorned with 
sprays of green and heliotrope on her head. 
She was by far the most attractive girl in 
the whole assembly, and the man who would 
not look twice at the soft tints in her cheeks 
would be a very queer sort of fellow, to say 
the least. 

“ So you brought your typewriter. Brother 
’Arland,” he said after the greetings were 
over; speaking of typewriters makes me 
think of a story I ’card the bother day. This 
is the way it ran: Some gentlemen ’ad 
been hinvited to give a toast hon the progress 
of hinvention and ’e responded by commenc- 


^Tbc juggernaut of tbe /DboOerns. 149 

ing in a flower}’ style that caught the hatten- 
tion of hall. You can himagine the result 
when ’e closed ’is remarks by saying, ‘W’y, 
gentlemen, it was honly a few years hago 
that we began hour letters by saying, I take 
my pen in ’and. Now the professional man 
commences by — taking his typewriter in ’is 
harms.’ ” 

He laughed immoderately, more like a 
man of the world than a minister of the gos- 
pel. Catherine was discomfitted and did 
not try to conceal it. It took some adroit- 
ness on the part of Harland to turn the 
pastor’s mind from its facetious bent. 

The day before, Cheeseberry had called at 
the office to urge upon Harland the neces- 
sity of his presence at the church. On that 
occasion he had said to Catherine : 

“ You must not forget hus heither. Miss 
’Untley. We will promise you not honly a 
right good time, but plenty of good cheer 
and plenty to heat in the bargain. You can 
halso ’ave a ’ankerchief of hany ’ue or tex- 


150 Zbc juggernaut of tbe /llboOcrne. 

ture that you may choose to duy. If your 
beau can’t bring you, come hearly to the 
church, hand Brother ’Arland will see that 
you get ’ome all right; if don’t, / will.” 

“ The pastor is speaking one word for me 
and two for himself,” responded Harland as 
if hehadaceidentally hit upon something very 
funny indeed. “ Now, Miss Huntley, which 
do you prefer for an escort this evening: 
the Right Reverend Cheeseberry, or the 
Right Honorable A. T. Harland, attorney at 
law? Choose ye this day whom ye will 
take.” 

After a very hearty laugh the pastor 
turned to Harland and asked: 

“ If we were both left widowers to-day. 
Brother ’Arland, who do you suppose would 
be the first to get ’im a new wife that is a 
young girl, ’andsome and smart, and one 
that the boys would hall be glad to get?” 

‘‘/would, of course,” answered Harland 
with a good deal of banter in his voice. 

“ I’m not a sporting man. Brother ’Arland, 
but if I were I’d simply bet you 


^be Juggernaut of tbc /BboDerns. 151 

’ “ Pshaw ! ” 

“ Of course I would. You ’ave a ’ok 
family of children on your ’ands, and none 
of them liable to take care of themselves; 
while I ’ave but one baby and ham several 
years younger than you, besides.” 

“ Age don’t cut any figure with men, my 
dear brother. Do you think for a minute 
that you could compete with me in your 
understanding of the intricate workings of 
the feminine heart ? It shows how little you 
know about the art, when you think I 
should be so green as to start out on the 
hunt for a helpmeet with a baby cab in front 
of me. No, sir; I could get around twenty 
girls, while you are sidling up to 

This reflected a side of the clergyman’s 
nature that Catherine knew but very little 
about. She glanced up sharply, wondering 
where their banter ended and truth began. 

“Well,” returned the Rev. Mr. Cheese- 
berry, rising and watching her small hands 
as they flew over the keyboard, “ we’ll leave 
it to Miss ’Untley for a final test, and 


152 Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /BboOerns. 

neither of us shall ’ave the right to happeal 
the case to a ’igher hauthority. Be honest 
now, Miss 'Untie}’; which would you pre- 
fer, Brother ’Arland and his family of 
children, or myself without a family — to 
speak of? ” 

Catherine was puzzled to know how to 
get around this question put with such 
directness as to preclude the possibility of 
evasion. 

If you should tell me that my life must 
end at once, and give me my choice between 
death by drowning or death by hanging, do 
you think — ” 

Ilarland was so amused that he did not 
wait for her to finish the sentence. He 
strode back and forth over the floor, im- 
measurably pleased, looking first at one and 
then at the other, as if he had not heard any- 
thing for months that had so entertained and 
delighted him. After the minister had gone 
he came up before the machine and asked: 

“You don’t think, then, that you could 


Zbc Jugacrnaut of tbc /llboOerns. 


153 


take such a bitter close as going to the festi- 
val with me to-night, Miss Huntley ?” 

The seriousness of the query seemed 
securely hidden under cover of the joke. If 
she had not detected an expression in his 
eyes which belied the lightness of his 
words, she would have regarded his question 
as nothing but a jest. 

“It would not be policy for you to take 
me out in company, would it, Mr. Harland ?” 
she asked. 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Oh, because I work for you, you know, 
and — then — people will talk, of course.” 

“Supposing they do? They will talk, 
anyway; they talk even if they have not 
anything to talk about. What difference 
would it make whether or not anything 
would ever be said about it?” 

She could think of nothing that would be 
a reply to his question, so she simply said : 

“There would be no harm in it, in the 
abstract; but it would not be politic — at 
least, not for me.” 


154 juggernaut of tbe /Kboberns. 

“ It would be very pleasant^ if it would 
not be politic. I never could see why a fel- 
low could not take a girl out for a walk or 
a drive, without bringing down upon his 
head a lot of vile accusations that only show 
the innate devilishness of those who are 
doing the talking. It is sheer nonsense, the 
height of absurdity, that because a man is 
married he can’t be seen with any woman 
but his wife, and I don’t take any stock in it. 
Come, Miss Huntley, be the sensible girl 
that you are. If you have no company and 
would like to go to the social, let me have 
the pleasure of taking you to the church 
and back again — just for once! ” 

He looked so desperately in earnest! Be- 
sides, there seemed to be a good deal of 
logic in his words. 

“ I have often wondered,” she mused, 
“ why men and women draw certain insig- 
nificant lines, and call them boundaries 
be3^ond which they dare not step with im- 
punity.” 

“Now you are talking!” he answered, 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /HboOerna. 155 

marvelling at the boldness of her thoughts 
and words. “ All people of sense must 
wonder in the same way, only they don’t tell 
anyone; they keep it to themselves, strictly 
to themselves.” 

He came up before her and stood watch- 
ing her in silence for several minutes. 

“Tell me,” he urged, “ if you would care 
to go to the church to-night. Miss Huntley. 
And have you any special company, if you 
do?” 

“ I should like to go, ” was the .answer. 

“ With 

She picked up a penknife and whittled 
at the corner of the desk, while on each 
cheek burned a bright red spot. 

“ Have you any objection to my society; 
would it be unpleasant? Tell me now the 
straight truth, right from your own honest 
heart. Miss Huntley!” 

She still maintained a strict silence. 
What was there, anyway, about this man 
that enabled him to read her mind and heart 


156 Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /Bboberns. 

like a book open before his eyes? She 
might as well tell him the truth; he knew, 
whether she confessed it or not, that the 
thought was not one of repugnance to her. 

“ Of course, I have no objection to your 
society; on the contrary, I think — ” 

That settles the whole matter. We will 
act with sense, for once in our lives, and get 
above the petty suspicions of the ignorant 
and the vulgar. I shall call for you this 
evening at half-past seven. We understand 
our own business a trifle better than anyone 
else I know of just now. Besides, people 
in this country can do as they please, if they 
do it in the right way.” 

And that was how it came about that she 
was at the festival with her employer. 

When they had been at the table some 
time and no one came to take their order, 
Harland motioned to one of the young wom- 
en waiting on the tables. She was a 
slight little being, with a dark complexion 
and snapping black eyes. Her nose, a de- 


ITbe 5 aggcrnaut of tbc /llboberne. 157 

cicleclly tip-tilted affair, suggested a sharp 
tongue and a marked ability to look 
after subjects of interest to others. She 
tripped up to his side, shrugging her should- 
ers and tossing her head, and took his order, 
ignoring Catherine’s presence as completely 
as if she were an object invisible to the 
naked eye. Pretty soon she returned with 
supper for only one. Harland made a sig- 
nal for her to pass the tray to Catherine, 
saying angrily: 

“Didn’t you see Miss Huntley.^ Bring 
me my supper, if you please.” 

The girl, her nose perceptibly elevated, 
soon came back and, with clash and clatter, 
set the dishes in the middle of the table. 
She seemed to think that her whole sex had 
received some serious injury, the resenting of 
which was a duty that she personally owed, 
not only to other women, but to herself as 
well. 

“ That girl knows so little she becomes an 
object of pity and contempt,” said Harland, 


158 tTbc juggernaut of tbc /Iboberus. 

thoroughly aroused at the girl’s behavior. 
Just then the minister brought Mrs. Cheese- 
berry up to the table and, introducing her to 
Catherine, seated her on the other side of 
Harland. The two women were soon en- 
gaged in conversation, while Harland, see- 
ing the girl who had waited upon them turn 
to a group of ladies standing near, bent for- 
ward to hear what might be said. 

“The idea!” said the girl who had 
snubbed Catherine, “the idea! That girl’s 
name is a byword on the street, and she 
dares to come here and hold her head up 
with the rest of us ! Dressed and fixed up, 
and stuck up just as if she was some- 
body! Why don’t she come out and show 
her true colors, and not push herself into the 
company of respectable people?” 

” Everyone says he sent his wife away and 
brought her here for a purpose,” said an- 
other lady, “and I heard the other day that 
she was an old sweetheart of his, and has 
always been in love with him. You can 


Zbe 5uggcrnaut of tbc /ftoberns. 159 

never tell, in a case of that kind, how much 
is true and how much isn’t; but one thing is 
pretty certain, people are not apt to say so 
much without some truth to start on.” 

“The idea!” resumed the girl with the 
dark face. “Shorthand! Mrs. H. will 
make s/ior^ woi'k of her, when she gets back 
and hears the stories that’s going around 
about them.” 

Two or three laughed at this sally. 
Another who had been a silent listener said : 

“ Miss Huntley looks like a lady of re- 
finement and culture, and besides she is 
a stranger here. Then Western towns are 
not used to seeing ladies employed in her 
line of work. In the city, you can’t go to a 
counter or a desk without being met by a 
woman or a girl, and no one thinks any- 
thing about it. It seems to me, too, that it is 
not a Christian spirit to condemn this girl 
before you know whether she is innocent or 
guilty. I take her for what she seems to 
be, and I for one shall not snub her on 
hearsay.” 


i6o Zbc juggernaut of tbc /Iboberns. 

The lady who spoke was Mrs. McAnnul- 
ty; this, coming from the wife of the presi- 
dent of the First National Bank, silenced 
those who before had been so ready to 
speak against Catherine. When supper 
was over Harland presented her to Mrs. 
McAnnulty, seated her by the latter’s side, 
and immediately sought the company of 
Mrs. McAnnulty’s husband. 

“ It’s an infernal shame, McAnnulty,” he 
said, after calling him aside and telling him 
of the way Catherine had been treated, “ to 
have a girl like that run down by women 
who are not fit to wipe the dust off her 
shoes! It don’t hurt me, of course you un- 
derstand that; but it does hurt /ler. Now, 
if it was a vian who had said what she 
did,” jerking his head in the direction of the 
girl who had waited upon them, “I’d whip 
him if it was the last act of my life. Cath- 
erine Huntley is every inch straight goods, 
and a sight better than any of those who 
talk about her. She’s got more sense in a 


XTbe Juggernaut of tbe /iboOcrns. i6i 

single convolution of her brain than any one 
of them would have if the brains of the 
whole set were put into her single head.” 

In McAnnulty’s long and deep-set eyes 
flickered a strange fire. He ran his fingers 
through his long beard and twisted the ends 
of it about his forefinger. Then bending 
over toward Harland, he nudged him in the 
ribs and whispered: 

“ Do you mean to say that she is straight 
up and down what you say she is ? ” 

“ You bet she is, every inch a girl of 
character and honor; and Mrs. Me Annuity 
shows not only her good heart, but her good 
sense, in shutting down on the scandal in the 
way she did.” 


tTbe Juggernaut of tbe /llboberns* 


162 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Among Mrs. Wollesey’s many peculiari- 
ties was one which was the subject of 
much comment among her employees. It 
was the queer fashion of always wearing 
her turban. Catherine had now been sev- 
eral weeks in her employ, and had never 
seen behind the dainty web which held her 
curls in place. Often, in the absence of 
the proprietor, the clerks had conjectured, 
joked and wondered; 3’et the mystery sur- 
rounding the little turban, with its bright 
pompon and gay aigrette, was now no 
nearer solution than it had been on the day 
when she had entered Mrs. Wollesey’s ser- 
vice. But this woman’s whole individual- 
ity was a m^’stery, from the crown of her 
hat to the sole of her shoe; mystery was 
stamped on all her moods and words and 


^be 3uggcrnaut of tbe ^oOerns. 163 

acts. None of her employees could ever 
guess what a day might bring forth. Some- 
times she would pass whole hours in a se- 
rene and pensive mood walking meekly 
about the counters, while her face ex- 
pressed a patience that well-nigh reached 
the sublime in its tenderness and pathos. It 
would seem, from the sweetness of her face 
and the amiability of her temper, that noth- 
ing could ever again mar the calm tenor of 
her soul’s content. When she smiled, it 
was the smile of one whose life had been 
purified by long suffering. 

Suddenly, upon the slightest provocation, 
she would fly into a violent rage, swearing, 
and scolding and berating every one about 
her. Before coming out of this mood she 
usually flew upon the errand boy, a meek 
Norwegian about fourteen years old, and 
trounced him soundly. He would accept 
his punishment as if he merited it, never 
complaining or returning a word by wa}' of 
defending himself. This would seem to 


i64 XLbe Juggernaut of tbe /nboOems. 

touch her heart deeply with remorse, for she 
usually forthwith called him into the sample 
room and, with tears and kisses, promised 
him that when he grew up to man’s estate, 
she would give him a half-partnership in 
the firm. Sometimes she would increase 
his wages, and sometimes she would take 
him to the hotel and order for him a sump- 
tuous dinner which was well worth the 
price he had paid for it. 

Of all the characters which Mrs. Wol- 
lesey assumed, none suited her so well as 
that of unsophisticated innocence. This 
was a rdle she always played on Saturdays, 
and on other days when business was rush- 
ing. She would stand at the end of the 
ribbon counter facing the street, with her 
elbow upon the glass case and her soft 
cheek resting against the pink of her hand. 
Through a mesh of filmy lace her neck 
gleamed like ivor3\ To a casual observer, 
she looked more like a figure draped and 
bonnetted for the display' of dry goods. 


Zbe juggernaut of tbe /BboOerne. 165 

than she did like the proprietor of Wol- 
lesey & Co. All this had the effect of 
making those about her walk as if they 
were treading on eggs. 

This morning, Mrs. Wollesey not com- 
ing to the store at the usual time, the clerks 
fell to discussing her peculiarities. They 
formed in a little huddle around the stove 
and spoke in very hushed accents. 

“ Mrs. Wollesey’s next-door neighbor 
says she never so much as comes out in the 
yard without a bonnet or veil on her head. 
What do you suppose is the reason she 
always keeps her head covered ? ” asked 
one of the clerks. 

“ Should think she’d be afraid of losing 
her hair, if she didn’t air her head once in a 
while,” volunteered another. 

‘‘ It’s because she has already lost her 
hair,” responded a young man with a reddish 
complexion and dignified airs, trying to look 
as if there was nothing in the remark to 
provoke merriment. Nevertheless, they all 


i66 Zbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberne. 

laughed heartily; whereupon he offered to 
bet ten dollars that she wore a wig. 

A tall spinster with a sallow face and 
black eyes ventured the assertion that it was 
a nicely devised scheme to hide the wrinkles 
in her face. A veil not only hid all marks 
of age, but softened the complexion and 
made the eyes sparkle. 

A pert young woman with a turn-up nose 
and large lips, who never lost an opportunity 
to abuse Mrs. Wollesey for the way she 
treated her help, said, the next time she 
‘‘gave her any of her lip,” she would ask 
her why she did not take her veil off. 

Catherine sitting behind the railing at the 
cashier’s desk looked up from her books 
and said: 

“ I don’t think it is fair to work for Mrs. 
Wollesey and then talk about her every time 
her back is turned; if I couldn’t stand her 
ways, I’d give up my position.” 

“Well,” retorted the girl elevating her 
nose as if it had been suddenly pulled up by 


Zbc 5uggcrnaut of tbc /nboOerne. 167 

an invisible string, “ a good reason why you 
don’t talk about Mrs. Wollesey! ” 

“ She treats you all right,” said the young 
man trying to pass off this last remark, 
“ because the new’s not worn off yet. When 
she turns loose on you a few times, you will 
probably be as ready to talk behind her 
back as the rest of us. Ah, we all know 
Mrs. Wollesey! ” 

“ The truth is,” he continued stepping 
round between the stove and the railing, a 
woman is not mentally or physically con- 
structed to carry on an enterprise which 
requires close attention, and great concentra- 
tion of thought and energy. She’s not got 
the mind nor the nerve.” He looked up 
and down at himself in a very proud way, 
and drew a series of deep inspirations. 

Catherine was just on the point of taking 
issue with him on these remarks, when the 
door burst open with great violence and Mrs. 
Wollesey, her face black as a thundercloud, 
broke into the room and, “ streaking” down 


i68 trbc juggernaut ot tbe /ibobcrns. 

the aisle, jerked the ledger from Catherine’s 
hand and reached for the day-book. She 
turned the leaves rapidly. The little group 
at the stove dispersed and flew about the 
room like leaves in a storm. 

“Here,” she snapped, “look up S. G. 
Smith’s account, quick!” 

The pert young woman whose nose 
turned up winked at the clerks and curled 
her nose revengefully. All waited breath- 
lessly for the termination. Without 
seeming to notice that her employer was not 
in her usual state of mind, Catherine took 
the book and soon handed her a statement. 

“ I just wanted to see if you were minding 
your business,” she snapped, tearing the 
paper in bits and throwing them into the 
waste basket. Then she flew down the 
aisle passing from counter to counter. 
Nothing escaped her angry eyes. She 
looked over the handkerchiefs and hosiery, 
rearranged the ribbons, dusted the laces, 
threw down merinoes, broadcloths, bunt- 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe /iRoOecno. 169 

ings and calicoes. She moved from shelf 
to shelf on a hunt for some particle of dust. 

“I can’t stand dirt!” she hissed through 
her teeth. “ I hate dead people. Behind 
the counter is no place for a corpse. If I 
did not have any more ‘get up’ than some 
people, I’d call upon my friends to bury 
me.” 

Suddenly she bethought herself and 
speeding out from behind the counter she 
ran to the door. 

“Where’s Richmond? Where’s Rich- 
mond?” she called frantically. “Oh my 
boy, my darling boy! Go and find him, 
some one; go and find him, quick! What 
shall I do, what shall I do, with all the 
weight that’s on my mind ! ” 

She wrung her hands and turned to the 
pert young woman who was replacing the 
calicoes. 

“ Go and find Richmond, this very minute, 
or I shall lose my mind. Oh, if he has been 
stolen! Go this minute and look for my 
boy.” 


170 


tlbc Juggernaut of tbc /Iboberno. 


The girl stood for a minute as if para- 
lyzed with astonishment. 

“Go this minute and find him, I say! 
What are you standing there for like a 
block, when my boy is lost?” 

In her tantrums she always seemed to 
keep her presence of mind enough to fling 
her bitter words at those who seemed the 
most defenceless, or rather at those who 
would be the least likely to resent them. 
The girl never moved, but watched the 
excited woman like a cat getting ready 
to spring upon its prey. 

Mrs. Wollesey stamped her foot. The 
girl tossed her head back and tilted her 
nose. 

“I’m nobody’s nurse, Mrs. Wollesey; 
when you employed me, it was to work be- 
hind the counter, not to run after 
Richmond. I don’t think you need be 
afraid that anyone would steal him.” ^ 

Angered beyond endurance, Mrs. Wol- 
lesey pointed her finger at the girl and 
ground her teeth. 


Zbc juggernaut of tbc /Bboberne. 171 

“You — go — and — look for my boy, or — 
you — take your hat and leave, this very 
minute. You young upstart you, what 
do you mean ? ” 

The girl, still looking through Mrs. 
Wollesey’s veil into her purple and swollen 
face, edged to the rear of the room and put 
on her hat and cloak. When she had 
passed down the aisle and stood at the door 
ready to leave, she looked back, her eyes 
fairly alight with a gleam of retaliation. 

“ Mrs. Wollesey,” she said mockingly, 
“ why don’t you ever pull off your hat? ” 

Instead of further provoking the angry 
woman’s wrath, this pointed little fling 
seemed in a measure to restore her equilib- 
rium. She went down to the cashier’s 
desk and bending over toward Catherine 
whispered: 

“ Come into the sample room, I want to 
talk to you.” 

Catherine followed her employer who, 
as soon as the door had closed, broke out 
excitedly: 


172 


tTbc juggernaut of tbc /iboOerns. 


“ Don’t, oh, don’t pay any attention to me 
when I am in this mood. Miss Huntley! 
No one understands me; they are all stocks 
and stones; they irritate me beyond endur- 
ance. My heart is breaking, my heart is 
breaking, and no one understands it! ” 

As she looked at Catherine her whole ex- 
pression and attitude wore a mute and pa- 
thetic plea for sympathy and help. She 
put her hand to her heart; tears were cours- 
ing down her cheeks, now wan and haggard. 

“ I am not ht for this business,” she said 
with a dramatic gesture of her hands. “ My 
heart is breaking, I tell you, and I am dying 
by inches. I can’t tell anyone — I must keep 
it all pent up here! ” 

Suddenly she clinched her hands and beat 
them madly against her breast, walking all 
the while from one end of the room to the 
other. 

“I am a wild cat, a t-i-g-e-r! There is 
no more good left in me,” she wailed, “and 
that man has done it all. Oh, how I hate 


Z\)c Juggernaut of tbe /Bboberns. 173 

him! I hate him! I hate all the men on 
the face of the earth worse than I do 
the plagues or the leprosy. I wish to 
heaven I had the whole sex in the hollow of 
my hand, and I would crush every soul of 
them quicker than I would a spider. I 
would not kill a spider, but I would anni- 
hilate the entire masculine race, and never 
feel one pang of sorrow or compunction.” 

She dropped into a chair which stood 
near and covering her face with both hands 
she wept with the abandonment of a child. 
Raising her eyes to the girl, who stood by 
her side silent and wondering, she said: 

“ I am always this way when I am going 
to hear from him^ Catherine; I thought he 
had passed out of my life, but mark my 
words, I am going to see him before another 
week! I know it, I feel it; I am never mis- 
taken. Not for one minute did I close my 
eyes in sleep the livelong night. Oh, my 
dear, dear friend, have patience with me, 
have patience with me ! ” 


174 


tlbe juggernaut of tbe /HboDerns. 


By the light of these revelations, Catherine 
came nearer to reading Mrs. Wollesey’s 
nature than she ever had done before. 
Slipping up to her side, she twined one arm 
around her waist and stroked her hands af- 
fectionately. This had the effect of bring- 
ing about a wild burst of weeping, which 
soon consumed itself by its own vehemence. 

Her sobs well under arrest, she went to a 
mirror which hung near the window and, 
laying aside her veil, proceeded to adjust 
her dishevelled curls. Smiling through her 
tears at her own image, she said: 

“ I am getting too old and ugly to take 
my veil off. Look there ! ” 

She pointed to a dark line below her eyes 
and sighed heavily. Then she took from 
her handbag, which was attached by a sil- 
ver chain to her waist, a box of powder and 
a piece of chamois skin, and rubbed her 
face and neck dexterously. When she 
again arranged the veil about her head the 
same childish, mobile face smiled out from 
behind the covering. 


ZTbc juggernaut of tbe /iboberne. 175 

On their return to the store they were met 
by a small boy who handed Mrs. Wollesey 
a telegram. She thrust it into Catherine’s 
hand and sank into a chair gasping for 
breath. 

“ Read it — for God’s sake ; it’s from that 
man! What did I tell you.^ ” Her face was 
ashen. 

Catherine opened the telegram and read: 

“Mrs. Sadie Wollese}^ Buffalo City, 
Dakota : 

“ Will be detained here another week. 

“ G. S. Bitsell.” 

“The fool!” she muttered through her 
set teeth. “ Why does the judge persist in 
sending me those pesky telegrams.^ As if 
my heart would break, if he did not write 
me every mail or telegraph me every turn 
he takes ! ” 

“ Mamma, mamma,” called Richmond 
dashing into the room followed by the hounds 
and the Newfoundland, “ what do you want, 
mamma? Here I am. We’se coastin’ out 


176 Zbe Juggernaut of tbc /llboDerne. 

here on the hill, little mamma, and you don’t 
care; no, no, you don’t care, do you, mam- 
ma? ” 

At sight of her boy she got down on one 
knee and showered kiss after kiss upon his 
face and hair. The clerks with ill-concealed 
expressions of disgust exchanged knowing 
glances and shook their heads. 

“ My darling Ritchie,” she said between 
her caresses, “just think about it, dearie! 
Mamma has been ’nearly crazy about you, 
and you must never go off and leave your 
darling mamma like this again. Her heart 
is breaking, dearie, her heart is breaking!” 

Melted by her tenderness, Richmond was 
ready to make any sacrifice that she might 
require of him. Now that his “ pretty 
little mamma,” as he was wont to call her in 
his affectionate moods, had left the cease- 
less whirl of her business pursuits long 
enough to get down upon her knees and 
take him in her arms, he would have given 
up any pleasure in store just to sit by her 


^be juggernaut of tbe /Bboberna. 177 

side and look up into her face. He had 
come in fully determined to coax his mother 
into letting him go down to the hill to coast. 
But now he could not have been coaxed or 
driven away from her skirts, or even decoyed 
out of her company, by the promise of all 
that his childish heart held most dear. 


[78 


(Tbe Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberne. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

‘‘What do you suppose is the matter, my 
dear? They have never all left the store 
like this before.” 

Mrs. Wollesey spread her napkin out 
over her lap and reached for a banana, 
which she dispatched with marvellous 
haste. That finished, she hurriedly picked 
up a cold biscuit and a bit of chicken. 

“ There’s something wrong, something’s 
going to happen; I know it, I feel it! 
What do you suppose they intend to do ? ” 

Catherine knew that the clerks had taken 
advantage of the supper hour to talk over 
the morning’s proceedings, and to make ar- 
rangements to return to the store and de- 
mand their wages. The wind had suddenly 
changed and the storm was coming now 
from a different direction. They had long 


^Ebc 3u00ernaut of tbe ^oberns. 179 

borne Mrs. Wollesey’s whims and caprices 
with a patience which it was pitiful to see; 
they had hated her for her peculiarities of 
mind and action with a mortal hatred. She 
had paid her help well, even munificently; 
but there were other things in life besides 
money. They would leave her facing the 
fact that her tongue and temper were things 
that could not always be indulged with 
impunity. Catherine’s first impulse was to 
feign ignorance of their plans; but remem- 
bering that her relations were those of con- 
fidential clerk and friend, she decided that 
it would be the proper thing to give her 
employer a hint of the truth. So after a 
long pause, wording her thoughts as 
guardedly as she could she looked down at 
her questioner and ventured: 

“I should not be surprised if they quit 
work to-night, Mrs. Wollesey.” 

As soon as the suggestion was made her 
heart seemed to bound up somewhere in the 
region of her throat, for she expected an 


i8o Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /BboOcrns. 

outburst of temper that it would be terrible 
to behold. But nothing of the kind followed. 
Mrs. Wollesey got up, lifted a minia- 
ture coffeepot from the stove and poured 
out a cup of coffee, which she sweetened 
several times and stirred thoroughly. 

“ Are you guessing at it, or do you know 
anything to that effect?” she asked, her 
lips taking the form of two tightly drawn 
and nearly parallel lines. Catherine looked 
at the woman, amazed at her self-control. 
There was not a trace of anger in her face 
or voice. 

“ I am not guessing at it,” she forced 
herself to say. 

Mrs. Wollesey said no more, but glanced 
toward the door, then about the counters and 
up and down the silent room. The sun had 
gone down and in the dusk the long festoons 
of handkerchiefs and hosiery stood out 
shadowy and portentous. She swallowed 
her coffee, as she did all things, in a hurry, 
and went down the aisle and turned on the 


Zbe juggernaut of tbe /HboOerne. i8r 

lights. Then she came back and stood by 
the quiet girl perched upon the high stool 
at the desk. In the glare of the lights the 
girl’s hair glistened as if it had been 
sprinkled with gold dust. Mrs. Wolle- 
sey put her hand softly on her head, smooth- 
ing back a few stray locks that had fallen 
from the thick coils of her hair. 

“ How beautiful, Miss Huntley, how 
beautiful ; and it is all real ! I would give — ” 

Here she was interrupted by the entire 
force of clerks, who entered and marched 
in a bee line to the desk. The young man 
with the red hair was the first to speak. 

“ Mrs. Wollesey,” he said, ‘‘ my month is 
up to-night; if it is convenient for 3^ou to 
settle with me — ” 

When he had come into the room he was 
calm and self-possessed. But before he 
had uttered a half-dozen words, he had 
worked himself into a frenzy of anger. 

“ The fact is,” he continued, warming up 
and expanding with each word, “ this place 


i 82 G:be Juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns. 

is too rich for my blood; I can’t stand it. 
And what’s more, I don’t intend to stand it, 
madam.” 

“ Very well, sir; ver}’ well, sir,” responded 
the proprietor, bowing with magnificent 
dignity, “ I’m too busy to settle to-night, 
sir; if you will call Monda}’, sir, we will 
arrange for a settlement. Of course, you 
are aware that by the terms of the contract 
I need pay you nothing; but that is neither 
here nor there. This is Saturday night and 
I shall be very busy. Call Monday, sir, and 
I will pay you in full.” 

The tall spinster, the pert young woman, 
and a young lady with a sad face and light 
hair stepped toward the proprietor. 

“We leave to-night, too, Mrs. Wollesey, 
and we want a settlement before leavino-.” 

to/ 

said the tall spinster, drawing her shoulders 
back as if she had at last obtained an oppor- 
tunity for some long-looked-for redress. 

“Very well, girls, very well; call some- 
time next week. We don’t need you any 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbe /BboDerno. 183 

longer this evening.” She made a quick 
motion of dismissal with her hand and 
turned to her bookkeeper. 

“We can do very well this evening, Miss 
Huntley, you and I. By Monday morning 
there will be a full dozen to fill the vacant 
places. I am bedrock down to the last inch; 
I pay my help without haggling, and I have 
my own ways and my own rules; if people 
can’t conform to them, they certainly have 
the right to leave.” 

She smiled, and went down to the door 
and opened it, while the clerks filed out, 
disappointed and chagrined at the turn 
their attempt at revenge had taken. Before 
she had closed the door several customers 
entered. In a few minutes the counters 
were crowded. Smiling and omnipresent, 
Mrs. Wollesey met her customers with a 
sweetness and affability which filled Cath- 
erine with wonder. Never had she been in 
better spirits or sweeter temper. Laughing 
and jesting, she made sale after sale, pleas- 


i84 TLbc 5ugc}crnaut of tbe /RoDcrns. 

ing and entertaining all who came into the 
store. In the hurry and rush of the even- 
ing’s trade Catherine found time to wish 
that her employer was not so much like a 
chameleon. Mrs. Wollesey, too, found 
an opportunity to make her bookkeeper a 
whispered offer of one hundred dollars per 
month if she would devote her entire time 
and attention to the store. She also found 
a chance to tell her that all her fears and 
sorrows of the morning had vanished like 
mist before the sun; that she now felt that 
she was equal to any emergenc}' the future 
might hold for her; and that, if she should 
meet Thornby face to face, she believed she 
would not experience one spark of her past 
feelings for him. 

The last customer gone, Mrs. Wollesey 
set herself to work replacing the stock, 
while Catherine returned to her work on 
the ledger. It was after eleven o’clock 
when the books were balanced, and she 
was pretty well tired out. Wearily closing 


tlbe juggernaut of tbc /Hboberns. 185 

the ledger, she looked up, startled by the 
sound of a man’s voice. At the front 
entrance stood a tall man, clad in a long fur 
cloak of white and grey. Beneath a white 
slouch hat which set back upon his head 
clustered a wav}^ mass of light auburn hair. 
He came up to the counter and bent over it, 
extending both arms toward Mrs. Wollesey, 
who at the sight of him fell back against 
the wall, her face agitated and pale. 

‘‘Good God, Thornby!” she gasped, 
“ what are you doing here ? ” 

“Mrs. — Wollesey — you know what I am 
doing — I have come to see you once again. 
Will you not listen to reason ? Is there 
anything under heaven I can say to make 
you listen to me.^ S-adie!” His voice 
lingered tremblingly upon her name. Mrs. 
Wollesey gasped again, reeling as if she 
would fall to the floor. “ Sadie, will you 
not listen to me? ” 

He leaned over the counter and into the 
outlines of his pale face crept an indefinable 
bitterness. 


i86 


Zbe juggernaut of tbc /iboDerns. 


Mrs. Wollesey groaned: 

“ For God’s sake, Thornby, leave me, 
leave me; I will not listen to you.” 

Suddenly by an effort which seemed 
more than human she recovered her com- 
posure, and holding one hand toward him, 
palm up, she said, in tones as cold as steel: 

“ If you have any business with me, 
Thornby, state it now — in the presence of 
my friend and confidante. Miss Huntley.” 

“Sadie,” he pleaded, “ don’t, don’t! You 
know what I would say, let me see you 
alone — at your home — my business can not 
be related in her presence. Oh, merciful 
heavens ! ” 

His tone was piteous. For an instant 
Mrs. Wollesey’s face softened, then as 
quickly resumed its former harshness. 

“ State your business here and now, or 
leave; we will be strangers, sir, in the 
future as we have been, sir, in the past. It 
is late.” 

She took out her watch and held it up. 


XLbc juggernaut of tbc /iboderns. 187 

In the silence which followed every faint 
stroke sounded like a death knell. Her 
hand shook, but her face as immobile as 
marble turned without flinching full upon 
the man before her. He cast a quick glance 
around the room and at Catherine, who sat 
watching this strange scene as she would a 
display of histrionic talent on the stage. 

“Sadie, I must see you, I 'will see you! 
The time has come when I will 'make you 
see and hear me ! ” 

Mrs. Wollesey’s whole frame trembled. 

Lifting his hat and pushing the long hair 
back from his forehead he turned and passed 
out into the night. Mrs. Wollesey, old and 
jaded as if years had fallen upon her, 
ambled down the aisle and fell into the 
arms of her bookkeeper, moaning and 
wrinmns: her hands. 

“ He will follow me, Catherine, he will 
follow me! I have but one salvation, and 
that is you. Come home with me, stay 
with me, night and day, until he leaves — ” 


i88 Zbc ^uflflcrnaut of tbc /iRoOcrns. 

Bathed in tears she reached for Cather- 
ine’s cloak and helped her into it. In an 
instant she had turned off the lights, and 
listening to no remonstrance on the part of 
Catherine, she seized her by the arm and 
forced her out into the street. 

“ Come on, we’ll go straight home,” she 
moaned, as she turned the key in the door. 
As she spoke, the wind, which had suddenly 
risen in the north, swept around the corner 
and sent the girl’s skirts rattling and flapping 
away from her ankles. 

‘‘ Come on, come on with me,” she almost 
shrieked, putting the key in her handbag 
and clutching wildly at Catherine’s arm. 
And in the wind and darkness the two 
women hurried down the silent street on 
the run, Mrs. Wollesey all the while moan- 
ing for Catherine to save her from herself. 

It was a cold night in February; the wind 
was strong and keen, and the walks as hard 
as adamant.' The sky, all one solid blue- 
black, set with myriads of tiny, sparkling 


XLbe Juggernaut of tbe /BboOetne. 189 

stars, looked like a canopy of black and 
gold. The wind circling about from behind 
reached down on a sudden like some strong 
hand, dipped up from the street an eddy 
of sand and snow, and threw it in their 
faces. Mrs. Wollesey halted, wound her 
boa about her neck and looked up at the 
sky. 

“ The weather in this climate is all un- 
certainty, uncertainty and surprise,” she 
observed slowly. “ Sometimes, the wind 
will come from all directions at once; some- 
times, it will blow strong and steady from 
one direction for three days. No one 
knows what turn it will take, or what it 
will bring.” 

She stopped and looked about her on all 
sides, then up again at the sky. Catherine 
mentally remarked that what Mrs. Wollesey 
had said was a pretty good synopsis of 
her own characteristics, and wondered if 
climatic influences had anything to do with 
the variableness of her disposition. 


igo Xlbc juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrne. 

“ Look at the sky, look! ” she went on, as 
if talking to herself, “ it’s as clear as water 
in a lake, and the color of amethyst. The 
stars shine like gems, shine as if the world 
were not filled with wrong and pain and in- 
justice for women. Ah, how I love the 
grand and beautiful, Catherine! How I 
love the splendor of a midnight sky, the 
moon the clouds, the weirdness and darkness 
of midnight! How I hate the coarse and 
ugly things of life! But to-night, I hate — 
I — hate everything — I was going to say I 
hate everything in nature, above and below, 
but I don’t. I just hate all mankind — men, 
I mean — with a hatred that won’t let me ap- 
preciate the beautiful things around me. 
To-morrow when I see my lovely flowers 
with their tender, dainty tints and leaves, I 
shall think of the canker that is eating away 
at my heart, and I shall want to crush them 
for their beauty and perfume. When dear 
old Mammy Woo tries to do everything on 
earth to please me I shall want to scold and 


XLbe juggernaut of tbe /R»obern0. 191 

They had hurried along rapidly, and were 
now in front of Mrs. Wollesey’s own gate. 
She opened it, still holding her friend’s arm 
in a vise-like grip, and bustled up to a side- 
door and rapped impatiently several times. 

“Mammy Woo,” she called out, “I told 
you to wait for me to-night. Get up and 
open the door. Mammy Woo!” 

In a few minutes the door was opened by 
an elderly woman very mild of countenance 
and very meek of air. She had a patient, 
troubled face, lined and shrivelled about 
the forehead, and pinched and drawn about 
the eyes. Her nose, a decided aquiline, 
contrasting with her mouth, which was 
small and drawn, looked like a malforma- 
tion. In form she was slender and stooped. 
With the first glance at Mrs. Wollesey she 
seemed to understand that something had 
gone amiss, and Muthout ceremony or 
apology began to explain that she had ful- 
filled certain orders regarding the welfare of 
Richmond and the chickens. At mention 


192 tlbc juggernaut of tbe /ftobcrno. 

of her boy’s name, Mrs. Wollesey stopped 
her with a quick movement of her hand : 

“ My boy, Mammy Woo, my boy! where 
is he? Oh, if he has been stolen. Mammy 
Woo! That man, that wretch, oh 
Mammy — ” 

She caught Mammy by the shoulder and 
shook her excitedly. 

“ I told you, never, never by day or night, 
to let him out of your sight, didn’t I ? Oh 
Richmond, my boy; I can never live with- 
out my boy! ” 

With a white and frightened face she 
rushed into an adjoining room, leaving 
Catherine and Mammy Woo standing at the 
threshold. 

“ Mrs. W ollesey’s narves is onstrong agin ; 
nobody’d harm ’er boy. She’s quare — quar- 
est woman I ever seed in my life; but she’s 
got a heart as big as her head. Come with 
me. I’ll take ye to ’er room.” 

The woman led the girl into a large room 
which seemed to be a wing of the house, or 


TTbc juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 193 

rather an addition, for in Buffalo buildings 
are constructed by piecemeal, additions be- 
ing made in proportion to the growth of the 
city. Here she lighted a chandelier and 
going to the door called lustily: 

“ Pappy Woo! ” 

Then she listened for an instant and hear- 
ing no response she called still louder: 

“ Pappy, bring a kittle o’ hard coal an’ 
shake up the fire. Mrs. Woolsy’s brought 
a girl home with ’er.” 

Pretty soon an old gentleman shuffled in, 
carrying a huge scuttle which he placed be- 
hind the stove. He was, even down to the 
minutest detail, exactly the opposite of 
Mammy Woo. His face was round, smooth, 
fat and flushed. His nose was small and 
flat; his lips heavy and wide. By some 
ante-natal process, the mouth seemed to 
have got possession of the material which 
should have been used in the construction 
of the organ of smell. The old couple were 
indeed a striking example of the law that 


194 ^bc juggernaut of tbc /iboOerns. 

like people repel, while unlike attract each 
other. He stirred the fire vigorously, shook 
the grate, turned the damper and shuffled 
out again without a word. Pappy and 
Mammy had lived with Mrs. Wollesey ever 
since she had come to Buffalo; they had 
come with her from the East as part of her 
household necessities. Pappy filled the 
place of coachman, stable man, gardener, 
janitor, fireman, and target in general for 
the shafts of Mrs. Wollesey’s irritation and 
temper. His work at this time of the year 
could mainly be summed up as tending the 
horses, and looking after Mrs. Wollesey’s 
dogs and their numerous progeny. Mammy 
acted as housekeeper and nurse. 

After Pappy’s egress from the room. 
Mammy took Catherine’s wraps, seated her 
in a large plush rocker by the stove and 
went upstairs. Catherine, glancing about, 
saw that the room in all its furnishino^s 
exhibited the same lavish and peculiar taste 
which Mrs. Wollese}^ displayed in her 


G:bc juggernaut of tbe ^oberne. 195 

dress. It was large and spacious, and the 
ceiling low. The walls, covered with pink 
paper, had a narrow border of pale blue 
flecked with rosebuds and green leaves. 
Three windows, constructed so as to form 
virtually but one, were filled with shelves 
upon which stood vase after vase of gera- 
niums and chrysanthemums. Among them 
twined vines of ivy and climbing cactus. 
Near the centre, tall and stately, towered 
a cold calla lily in full bloom. At either 
side stood a fuchsia with blood-red centre 
and white petals. A dainty lambrequin of 
cream lace festooned with bows of pink 
ribbon bordered the top. Long lace cur- 
tains, soft and cream}", hung from windows 
on the north and east, trailing over a carpet 
of pale blue velvet. A piano loaded with 
music and vases stood in one corner; three 
or four tiny fern dishes made from Black 
Hills agates and set in fancy carvings, 
scattered here and there among the vases, 
were strewn with dead leaves. On a centre- 


196 Zhc Juggernaut of tbc /iiboOerns. 

table with a marble top stood two little 
silver cups filled with geranium buds. The 
chairs’, made of plush and nearly hidden 
with lace and ribbons, looked much too 
artistic to be inviting. Opposite an enor- 
mous painting called ‘‘ A Dakota Land- 
scape,” hung two portraits, one of a 
man, the other of a woman. The woman 
was Mrs. Wollesey. As Catherine looked 
at the man’s face wondering where she had 
seen the original, she presently detected in 
the picture a marked resemblance to Mrs. 
Wollesey’s visitor. It was evidentl}^ the 
same face, but it here bore no marks of 
grief or care. Getting up to look more 
closely at the likeness, she glanced to her 
right and beheld, in front and at one side of 
a huge mirror, a vision which caused her to 
cr}" out with an exclamation of surprise. It 
was a life-size waxen image of the Empress 
Josephine. She was arrayed in a long close- 
fitting robe of black velvet with low neck 
and short sleeves. A rich piece of lace at 


^be juggernaut of tbe /Iboberno. 197 

the neck and on the sleeves, together with a 
heavy bunch of carnations on her bosom, 
formed the only trimmings. Her magnifi- 
cent head, small and regal, was poised a 
little bit on one side, and her hair, a 
glistening iron-grey, was wound in a fluffy 
coil upon the crown of her head. The lips, 
half parted, revealed a row of small and 
even teeth. The eyes, a clear grey, looked 
into Catherine’s with a high-bred mournful- 
ness which awed and fascinated her. It 
was onl}^ a beautiful piece of wax work, but 
it held her as if chained; she could neither 
take her eyes from its face, nor move away 
from its side. 

As she stood there leaning toward the 
figure, her features overspread with an 
intense admiration, she did not see Mrs. 
Wollesey who had entered the room. 

At the threshold Mrs. Wollesey paused 
watching her friend intently. As Mrs. 
Wollesey stood thus, her countenance re- 
laxed into its usual childish prettiness. 


198 ^be juggernaut of tbe /llboberns. 

“Miss Huntley,” she said softly, “you 
admire the Empress too! Bitsell says she 
makes his blood run cold. But he has not 
feeling nor energy enough to appreciate 
either art or taste.” 

Coming reverently up to the image she 
removed the netting thrown around it and 
stole her arm about its waist. 

“ Ah,” said Catherine, catching her breath 
quickly, “ I feel as if in the presence of roy- 
alty, real royalty. I was so charmed that I 
had lost myself.” 

In removing the netting from the figure, 
Mrs. Wollesey touched one of its hands, 
which, being broken off at the second joint 
of the fingers, had been carefully concealed 
in a fold of the velvet. 

“Oh heavens, that poor little hand! Why 
should such an awful accident happen to my 
Empress ? ” 

She kissed the waxen hand of the empress 
and hid it again in a fold of the figure’s 
dress. Then carefully replacing the veil, 
she sighed and turned to Catherine: 


ITbc Juggernaut of tbc /llboberns. 199 

‘‘Catherine, you look so tired! What is 
the matter with you, child?” she asked in 
deep concern. “Look at the great circles 
around your eyes, and your face is the color 
of chalk. You must get to bed at once, at 
once. It is now past midnight.” 

She went to the folding doors and pulled 
them back, revealing a sleeping room with 
gaudy furnishings and a bright carpet. 

“You may have my room to-night, and 
my gown, too,” she said as she brought from 
the closet a cambric robe daintly tucked and 
ruffled, and tied at the neck with a pink 
ribbon. “ 1 hope you will sleep well, my 
dear,” she added, bending and kissing her 
friend affectionately on the cheek; “ I shall 
sleep with Richmond. No, I shall not sleep: 
I shall ‘ retire ’ to the torment that has been 
meted out to me in the past.” 

After Catherine was in bed she could not 
sleep for thinking. Her mind wandered 
back to the stories she had heard of Mrs. 
Wollesey before she had ever seen her. 


200 


^be juggernaut of tbc ^oberns. 


She thought of the time that Mrs. Wollesey 
had called upon her at the office; of how 
she had at first scrupled to work for a wo- 
man at whom Madam Grundy had pointed 
the finger of suspicion; of how she had 
finally come to believe it was no worse to be 
the employee of Mrs. Wollesey than it was to 
be the employee of Judge Bitsell. She took 
herself severely to task as she reflected that 
she was now this woman’s bosom friend, 
and was actually at her house, sleeping in 
one of her own beds. Then her mind re- 
verted to the woman as she had learned to 
know her. She thought of her misfortunes, 
her peculiarities of thought and action; she 
told herself that the world had placed a very 
unjust estimate upon the woman it had tried 
to slander. Trouble and disappointment 
had soured a temper naturally sweet and 
gentle; besides, she was sincere in her 
convictions of right and wrong, and the 
privilege of holding to her own opinions 
was one that no fair-minded person could 
deny her. 


Zhc 5uggernaut of tbc /iRobcrns. 


201 


Thus the girl lay awake and thought, till 
the dawn of day, creeping in through the 
curtained windows, drove out the darkness 
of the night. Then, troubled in mind and 
body, she fell into a heavy sleep and dreamed 
that she must cross a stream, muddy and 
foaming, which rushed on and on, widening 
until it became a gulf of roaring, seething 
waters. When she had found a point which 
wound around a narrow bend, she jumped — 
and fell headlong into the torrent. In an 
instant a strong current had seized her, and 
she was borne in a whirl of mud and water 
down to the gulf, where she sank to the 
bottom and rose no more. 


202 


®bc Juggernaut of tbc /iboDerno. 


CHAPTER XV. 

At a late hour Catherine awoke in the 
throes of a nervous headache. She tried to 
rise, but her strength failed her. The work 
of the preceding evening, and its attendant 
excitement, had brought about the old at- 
tack of nervousness in its most aggravated 
form. When Mrs. Wollesey rapped at the 
door for entrance she received no response 
but the unintelligible mutterings of pain and 
delirium. Opening the door she found her 
friend lying back among the pillows, the 
cover thrown from her shoulders, and talk- 
ing the nonsensical jargon common to those 
of the neuro-sanguine temperament. 

“ Catherine,” called Mrs. Wollesey, flying 
to her side and catching at her hand, 
“ what’s the matter, dearie, what’s the mat- 
ter? Can’t you tell me?” 

The girl put her hand to the back of her 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbc /Iboberne. 203 

head moaning, and looked foolishly into 
Mrs. Wollesey’s face. 

Mrs. Wollesey laid her hand on her head. 
It was moist and cool. She felt her pulse. 
It was faint and slow. Stooping over her 
she looked for a long time into the sick 
girl’s eyes. They were wide open and 
bright, and in their depths shone a wild, 
hysterical light. 

“ Oh, my head, my head ! ” she gasped, 
her voice dying away in a succession of in- 
articulate sounds. 

Mrs. Wollesey, pale and frightened, 
stroked her forehead and her hands. Cath- 
erine’s corset, a heavy, corded thing daint- 
ily bordered with lace, hung across the back 
of a chair. The woman picked it up and 
looked at it, as she would at a poisonous 
reptile or monstrous beast. 

“No wonder,” she fairly hissed, “no 
wonder she is down there in that condition 
with her head and her back! I’ll bicrn the 
nasty thing. I’ll burn it!” 


204 ^bc 3 uggcrnaut of tbc /BboDerns. 

All the sympathy that had an instant 
before beamed from her face now gave 
way to an expression of contemptuous 
indignation. She took the corset and, 
rolling it up after the fashion of a curtain, 
carried it out to the kitchen stove. 

Mammy Woo, enveloped in a dense cloud 
of steam, stood over a pan of oatmeal 
stirring it vigorously. As Mrs. Wollesey 
opened the stove and held the corset over 
the flames, the wrinkled old eyes of Mammy 
Woo scintillated with the wisdom of a 
serpent. Mrs. Wollesey held the garment 
aloft, throwing furtive glances first at 
Mammy and then at the flames. But 
Mammy did not remonstrate with her, she 
only smiled knowingly and lifted the kettle 
from the stove to the table. 

“That girl’s half-dead,” blurted out Mrs. 
Wollesey, “she’s lying there in bed un- 
conscious and prostrated, probably for life. 
The nasty thing. I’ll burn it!” 

She poked the steels almost down into 


(Tbc juggernaut of tbc /llboberns. 205 

the lire, while her hands tightened till the 
veins in them looked like cords. Suddenly 
she lifted the corset high above her head, as 
if she meant to throw it down into the 
woodbox. 

“Oh, what shall I do. Mammy Woo; 
whdit shall \ do.^ No one on the face of 
the earth is called upon to pass through the 
terrible things that have happened to me, 
one tragic thing after another, with no end, 
no cessation, no hope. Nothing but tragedy, 
tragedy, tragedy! Here last week my sister 
was married, foolish, foolish woman, and 
that broke into my life, and upset all my 
plans for the future; and next that tele- 
gram; then the trouble with my clerks. 
Then that man — that man.? that beast — 
came here to hound me down to my own 
destruction; and now this girl is down on 
my hands dying, or crippled for life. Oh, 
Mammy Woo, what shall I do.? What 
shall I do.?” 

“ We’d better go in an’ see ’er first, an’ 


2o6 


^Ebe 3uggcrnaut of tbc /RboDerne. 


find out what ails her, before we go into 
kinneptions, Mrs. Wollesey. Mebbe she 
ain’t so critical as ye think,” interposed 
Mammy, wiping her hands on her apron, 
which she slowly removed and hung on a 
peg behind the door. 

Mrs. Wollesey put the lid on the stove 
and followed Mammy Woo to Catherine’s 
room, throwing the corset into the closet 
and shutting the door with a bang. 

Mammy looked at the girl and plied her 
with questions; .eliciting no intelligible 
replies, she unwound the braids from about 
her head and pulled the covers up snugly 
around her head and shoulders. 

‘‘ She ain’t got any fever, but she is out 
uv ’er head. The good Lord hisself only 
knows what ails ’er, / don’t,” said Mammy 
with a strong accent of resignation in her 
voice. “ I’d better stir up the fire, and 
open the big doors, and put some mustard 
drafts on ’er feet, an’ blister the back of ’er 
neck. That ’pears to be the seat o’ the 


G:bc juggernaut of tbe /iboberns. 


207 


misery. An’ we’d better send Pappy for a 
doctor as quick as we kin. It’s a fine thing 
fer ye that it’s Sunday, Mrs. Wollesey.” 

Mrs. Wollesey shook her head and bit 
her lips. She had an intense antipath}^ to 
the medical fraternit}’ on general principles, 
believing that, as a body, ph3’sicians are a 
set of shrewd, designing tricksters, licensed 
by law to acquire money and reputation b}" 
preying upon the idiosyncrasies of woman- 
kind. People who knew her well had often 
heard her say that most of the ills to which 
women are subject are brought about by 
errors in dress, and flagrant violation of 
some of the simplest laws and demands of 
nature. She had been heard time and again 
to boast that she had never had a phy^sician 
in her house, except at the birth of her baby; 
and that by the judicious use of water and 
lemons, she could arrest the progress of any 
ailment which did not require the skill of a 
suro-eon. But this was a case which baffled 

o 

all her previous knowledge and observation. 


2o8 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /IRoberne. 


In an indistinct way, her natural good sense 
pointed out the original cause of the diffi- 
culty; but what the present matter was with 
the girl, or what to do for her, were phases 
of the question that she knew absolutely 
nothing about. 

“Who’ll we get?” she asked excitedly, 
watching Catherine picking at the bed- 
clothes and staring wildly at the ceiling. 

“Jensen, he’s the best doctor fer women 
in the Black Hills. Pappy kin git ’im up 
here in a -jiffy, an’ he kin tell you what ails 
’er as soon as ’e gits eyes on ’er. He never 
asks any questions either; ’e’ll jis’ come in 
and look at ’er.” 

“Well, get him up here as quick as you 
can. I don’t want her to die at my house 
and have it said I didn’t do all I could for 
her, but I don’t suppose he knows an}’ more 
about the case than / do.” 

And while Mammy hastened to send 
Pappy for Jensen, Mrs. Wollesey pounced 
upon a pile of ironed clothes upon the bureau 


Zhc Juggernaut of tbe jfliboberna. 209 

and immediately tore a pillowcase into sev- 
eral squares for poultices. 

In a remarkably short time Dr. Jensen 
arrived, and found Catherine poulticed 
from head to foot, and smelling strongly of 
mustard and lemons. The doctor was a 
ver}' large and pompous man, heavy-set and 
broad-shouldered, with a face as smooth as 
an infant’s. His hair was light, and cut 
close to his head; his eyes were extremely 
large and very blue. He held his body 
erect; wore a silk hat; and withal looked 
like a man who had a full appreciation of 
his own importance. Dignified and com- 
posed, the doctor laid his hat on the dresser 
and examined the patient’s pulse. 

She has no fever,” he said, wiping his 
forehead and rolling up his sleeves. Then 
he opened a leather case containing a num- 
ber of fantastically shaped knives and scis- 
sors and hooks; this, after he had examined 
its contents carefully for some minutes, he 
laid open in full view upon the dresser. 


210 


ZTbe 3^u9gernaut of tbe /Bboberns. 


Taking from his pocket a tiny thermometer, 
he put it between Catherine’s set lips and 
sat down upon the bedside to test the tem- 
perature of her body. 

‘‘No fever at all; pulse faint; circulation 
anaemic. Seems to be in extreme pain men- 
tally. Should say she has received a severe 
shock of some kind within the last twenty- 
four hours. Who is she? Does she live 
here?” 

“My bookkeeper; she has been in my 
company for the last twenty-four hours, and 
nothing unusual has occurred to throw her 
into such a condition as this,” returned Mrs. 
Wollesey impatiently. 

The doctor’s brow clouded for an instant. 

“ How old a girl is she?” 

“I don’t know; you can tell as much 
about that as I can. But what is the matter 
with her, doctor? Is she in a serious con- 
dition? Is she going to get up soon again?” 

The doctor coughed and turned his atten- 
tion to the sick girl. 


Zbe 3uggernaut of tbe /OboOerns. 


2II 


“ What have you been putting on the back 
of her neck ? ” he asked. 

“ Mustard poultices.” 

“ Back of her neck hurts, eh ? I thought 
so. It does no harm — palliative, but not 
remedial.” 

“ What’s the matter with her, doctor ? ” 
urged Mrs. Wollescy, not inclined to give up 
the idea which was paramount in her mind. 

“ Nervousness,” he responded, chuckling 
to himself. “It’s a very common complaint 
among young girls and women nowadays. 
I’ll leave you something to quiet her nerves 
and she will probably be up and around 
again in a few days. It’s possible she will 
not be strong again for some time; it may 
be necessary to take her through a full course 
of local treatment, before she fully recovers. 
It’s nothing, I assure you, to occasion any 
alarm whatever.” 

“Nothing to occasion any alarm ?” echoed 
Mrs. Wollesey. “ You don’t mean to say 
there is nothing serious the matter with that 


212 


tTbc ^ugcicrnaut of tbc /ibobcrns. 


girl, do you?” looking at Catherine’s pale 
and rigid face, her hands now clinched, the 
muscles moving like one afflicted with Saint 
Vitus’s dance. “You’d think it would 
occasion a little alarm if yoit were down 
therein such a shape as that, wouldn’t you?” 

Dr. Jensen was used to seeing people 
unduly demonstrative in time of sickness 
and danger; this did not in the least perturb 
his equanimity. He rose, breathing heavily, 
and prepared about two dozen powders com- 
pounded from three different vials. 

“ I have marked the powders number one 
and number two,” he said. “ Give them 
alternately every half-hour. One is to 
quiet and soothe the nerves, the other is to 
stimulate and build up the system.” 

Mrs. Wollesey shrugged her shoulders 
and followed him from the room. She did 
not have a very clear idea as to what might 
really be the matter with Catherine, but she 
felt a burning indignation at the doctor for 
making no inquiry about her manner of 
living or her mode of dress. 


XLbe Juggernaut of tbc /BboDcrne. 


213 


“ Dr. Jensen, there is something more 
than nervousness wrong with that girl, and 
you know it. I have been nervous myself, 
but I have never been down like that. I 
want to know what is at the bottom of it.” 

The doctor turned around and eyed her 
for about a minute. 

“ There may be many causes, my dear 
madam; it would take too long to enumerate 
them. It might be one of any number, or 
it might be any number of causes. We can 
only guess at the causes; we deal principally 
with conditions, in such cases.” 

“You spoke of treating her,” continued 
Mrs. Wollesey; “ what would you treat her 
for.?” 

“For functional derangements, of course; 
not one woman in hundreds is free from the 
weakness peculiar to her sex. The girl is 
suffering, to be plain about it, with a severe 
attack of hysteria, which is only a symptom 
of the real disease.” 

“What kind of treatment would you give 
her .?” 


214 


Zhc juggernaut of tbc /Bboberns. 


That depends. While we understand 
in a general way what is the matter with a 
patient of this kind, we can only learn by a 
thorough examination just what form of 
difficulty she is subject to. Having ascer- 
tained that, we proceed to apply the remedy.” 

Mrs. Wollescy appeared to be thinking 
deepl}’. 

“ Dr. Jensen, when she gets better so she 
can talk, I want you to come up and sec 
her again. The opinion of a physician 
sometimes carries great weight with it. I 
want you to tell her that, if she will take 
her corsets off, and leave them off. Nature 
will build up what her foolishness has torn 
down.” 

The doctor would not have been more 
taken aback if the lady of the house had 
dashed a cup of cold water in his face. 
While recovering his equilibrium, his eyes 
wandered over the well-rounded curves of 
Mrs. Wollesey’s figure as outlined by a cling- 
ing wrapper of red flannel. 


XLfic Juggernaut of tbc ^oOerne. 215 

“ Other women,” he said presently, patting 
her on the shoulder, his eyes aglow with 
surprise and admiration, “ have not the good 
fortune to possess either your good sense or 
your good health. It would be of no use 
my dear lady, no use whatever; they won’t 
pay any attention to what a doctor tells them 
on this point. I have never yet seen a 
woman who would listen to advice when it 
comes to what she wears. As long as there 
is one woman who will wear a corset, as 
long as manufacturers continue to make 
them, and stores to sell them, they will never 
give up that foe to their own health and the 
health of their children.” 

He laughed; it sounded like the noise 
produced by rubbing two files together. 

“ It seems to be natural,” he went on, 
‘‘ for humanity to torture itself in one way 
or another, to puncture, to distort and to 
mutilate. The Indians flatten their heads and 
hang rings in their noses; the Chinese 
women dwarf and deform their feet; and 


2I6 


ZDc Juggernaut of tbe /BboOerns. 


the South Sea savage tattooes his flesh 
with the needle and the knife. If women 
did not harm themselves in one way they 
would in another. We as physicians learn 
to accept things as w€ find them, and to 
accommodate ourselves to our environ- 
ments.” 

While speaking he had been movdng 
slowly in the direction of the door. Open- 
ing it and putting his hat on his head he 
bade Mrs. W ollesey an elaborate adieu. 


Zbc 5uggcrnaiit of tbe ^oDcrns. 


217 


CHAPTER XVI. 

To the surprise of both Mrs. Wollesey 
and Mammy Woo, Catherine had reeovered 
consciousness by the middle of the after- 
noon; sitting up in bed, propped up among 
the pillows, she was able to eat a poached 
egg and a bit of toast. Instead of growing 
worse with the close of the da}^, her strength 
seemed to return. After luncheon Pappy 
lifted her from the bed to a large plush 
rocker, in which she sat in front of the 
stove, clad in one of Mrs. Wollesey’s loose 
wrappers. To all outward appearance she 
was as well as ever. Only the heavy dis- 
colorations below her eyes told of the suf- 
ferings that had so recently racked her, 
mind and body. But Catherine herself was 
conscious that she was in some way the 
victim of a painful and peculiar malady. 


2i8 Z\ic juggernaut of tbc /BboOcrns. 

Her whole being seemed to be made up of 
a network of infinitesimally small wires; the 
moving of a chair, or the closing of a door, 
was like touching one of the wires and 
setting the whole system in motion. A step 
outside, the bark of a dog, the neighing of a 
horse jarred upon her nerves like the rdar 
of heavy machinery. Jn short, all nature 
seemed to have nothing to do but to grind, 
irritate and annoy. Sights and sounds that 
heretofore had been sources of pleasure 
were now instruments of the keenest torture. 

Mrs. Wollesey, not understanding the re- 
flex complications arising from such dis- 
turbances and being herself a woman of 
sound health with a strong capacity for 
endurance, had not the slightest idea of the 
sufferings experienced by one of Catherine’s 
susceptible mind and temperament. She 
was overjoyed at her speedy recovery and, 
to celebrate the happy turn which events 
had taken, she ordered Pappy to bring in 
the hounds and the Newfoundland, with 


^Tbe juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrns. 219 

Bixa and all her pups. Mrs. Wollesey 
never tired of showing off her dogs, and 
recounting their virtues and sagacit}'. She 
told stories illustrating the affection and 
intelligence of the hounds and, with Rich- 
mond, patted and petted, kissed and scolded, 
amid growls and bow-wows, till Catherine 
came near losing her returning senses in a 
repetition of the morning’s sickness. The 
room filled with dogs looked more like a 
kennel than it did like Mrs. Wollesey’s pri- 
vate sitting room. On every hand dogs, 
dogs, dogs, wagging their tails, sniffing, 
growling, leaping, rolling. Catherine made 
an heroic effort to appreciate the entertain- 
ment, which appeared to be given solely for 
her benefit. Just when she thought she 
could stand it no longer the Newfoundland, 
crowding in between a chair and the win- 
dow, upset a pot of geraniums in full bloom. 

Mrs. Wollesey, her temper as badly upset 
as the pot of flowers, called Pappy and 
ordered him to take charge of the whole 


220 


^Tbc 5ug<jcrnaut of tbe /Bbobcrne. 


body, and marshal them hack to their 
respective kennels. • But Richmond refused 
to part with Bixa and her babies. He clung 
to the dog’s neck, begging his mother not 
to send her away “because another great 
big dog had pushed over a pot of flowers 
and broke them.” 

“ Pappy,” said his mother sternly, “ take 
the dogs away, every one of them; at once, 
at once.” 

Pappy inveigled the dogs from the room 
to the porch by calling them out ostensibly 
to be “ set ” on something in the garden. 
Richmond still grasping Bixa by the neck 
followed. That peculiar look of mingled 
anger, revenge and detestation surged 
over Mrs. Wollesey’s face, as she seized 
Richmond by the collar and led him into 
another room; whereupon followed sundry 
shrieks on the part of Richmond, and 
numerous threats on the part of his mother. 
The child’s punishment meted out, and 
his sobs and shrieks under subjection (Mrs. 


Zbc Suggcrnaut of tbc ^obcrns. 


221 


Wollesey never allowed him to cry out 
with the pain she had inflicted), he was 
given into the hands of Mammy Woo to be 
put to bed in disgrace. 

“ The blood of that dog runs in his veins,” 
hissed the boy’s mother darting excitedly 
about the room dusting the chairs with her 
handkerchief, “ and there are times when I 
detest and loathe him like a caterpillar or a 
toad. Sometimes when he turns his eyes up 
into my face like that, I want to fell him 
to the floor; for he makes me think of 
Thornby. That little creature is bone of 
my bone and flesh of my flesh, but he is the 
offspring of a dog, and the blood of a dog 
every hour sweeps in and out of his heart.” 

The room once more in order and Mammy 
sent about the house to adjust everything 
for the night, Mrs. Wollesey came in and 
seated herself before the piano. Catherine 
sat where she could get a side view of her 
features and, as her fingers moved up and 
down the keys, the harshness in her face 


222 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 


relaxed into a sweetness which came very 
near being angelic in its intensity. Striking 
a low prelude in a minor key her voice, full 
and passionate, took up the words of a simple 
little love song learned when she was a girl 
at school. Her fingers, her face, her form, 
all seemed surcharged with the sentiment of 
her song. When she came to the last verse — 

“ And she withei’ed, like a flower 
That is waiting for Ihe rain ; 

She will never see the stranger, 

Where the fountains fall, again,” 

her lips trembled, her eyes filled with tears, 
and her voice died out in a low wail of 
sympathy and despair. The song had lifted 
Catherine away from her aches and pains, 
away from Mrs. W ollesey and all her sur- 
roundings. It had carried her into an atmos- 
phere far above the sordid cares of earth. 
It ceased; and she now saw before her only 
the turbulent, erratic little singer leaning over 
against the piano with a face as sad and 
lovely as the face of a Madonna. Ever thus 
are the higher sentiments, the diviner ele- 


^be juggernaut of tbe /ISobcrne. 


223 


ments in our nature, mingled with the baser 
characteristics common to the ugly side of 
human life. ‘ Suddenly, after a very long 
silence in which she had seemed to forget 
her music and its pathos, Mrs. Wollesey 
wheeled half-way around upon the piano 
stool and looked at Catherine, her eye- 
brows elevated somewhat after the fashion 
of two interrogation points. 

“ Catherine,” she commenced, “ I want 
to know something about my dear. 

Were you always subject to spells like the 
one you had this morning?” 

The girl could hardly keep from express- 
ing surprise at the question. 

“No, not always. At first, the trouble 
seemed to be in my heart and side; then it 
settled into a sort of palpitation or flutter- 
ing which, after awhile, seemed to connect 
in some way with my head and throat. I 
used to have convulsions regularly, when I 
would lie for hours unconscious, with no 
idea of time or life, or anything around 


224 Ube juggernaut of tbe ^oberno. 

“When did the trouble commence?” 

“Oh! a long time ago — about the time I 
put on long dresses and began to think my- 
self a woman,” she said, laughing. 

“ What did your mother think was the 
cause of it? Didn’t she ever do anything 
to try to cure you ? ” 

“ Oh, mamma doctored me all the time 
for years, first for my head and eyes, then 
for my nerves, and, in short, for every ill 
that girls are heir to; but nothing ever 
seemed to help me permanently. Mamma 
herself was never a strong woman, and she 
always thought I inherited some constitu- 
tional weakness from her. I never expect 
to be anything but delicate; I should not 
feel like m3'self to be well at one time in 
every part of the bod}’.” 

Mrs. Wollesey studied her blankly for 
several minutes. 

“You don’t look delicate, child,” she 
said, “ and there is certainly nothing wrong 
with you constitutionally. You have a 


Zbc juggernaut of tbc /Ro&erns. 225 

good firm body, firm limbs, a round face, 
and a clear complexion. You ought to be 
ashamed to be in the condition that you 
have just described to me — )’Ou ought ^ 
Catherine; for there is something at fault in 
your manner of living. You are not natur- 
ally delicate.” 

“ Why, Mrs. Wollesey, you don’t think I 
am putting it all on, do you ” 

“ Of course not; but it is your own fault, 
or the fault of those who should have 
taught you how to keep your health; there 
is nothing wrong with you by nature.” 

' She went over to Catherine and felt of 
her plump, round arms, tapped her chest, 
and rubbed her hand up and down her 
waist, now unrestricted by whalebone or 
steel. 

‘‘ How old were you when 3’ou put on 
corsets ? ” she queried slowly. 

“ About fourteen.” 

“Catherine,” she said impressively, “do 
3'ou know I believe your corsets have been 


226 


XTbc juggernaut of tbc /iboberne. 


the cause of all your trouble ? If you will 
take them off and let your heart beat freely, 
and not trammel your lungs and stomach, 
you will be as strong and well as anybody. 
You ought to be as strong as I am, and I 
have the strength of half-a-dozen like you.” 

“Why, Mrs. Wollesey,” she answered 
hotly, “ I can put my hand between my 
corsets and my body anytime — I don’t wear 
my clothes tight enough to harm me. Be- 
sides I could not live without them. If I 
leave my corsets off I feel as if I am fall- 
ing into a thousand pieces. No, I couldn’t 
live without them.” 

“ That’s because you have injured your- 
self internally by years of constant pressure 
in, and down, and up; and because an3’thing 
that has become a habit will interfere with 
our feelings if something occurs to break 
the habit. Take them off, and leave them 
off until you fill out, and grow strong and 
natural! You have tortured yourself so 
long that you don’t feel right unless you are 


tCbe juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 227 

suffering pain and pressure of some sort. 
Catherine, did Nature ever make a waist of 
twenty inches together with a bust of thirty- 
six inches, all around? When she framed 
women with all the organs necessary to 
health and life, don’t you think she meant 
these to have room to act fully and natur- 
ally? When you put a waist designed to be 
twenty-six inches into a compass six or 
eight inches smaller than that, what else 
could be expected but convulsions, and bad 
nerves, and headache and poor health? 
Catherine, I want you to promise me you 
will never wear that barbaric instrument 
again, my dear. Promise me, won’t you ? ” 
“I could never do that, Mrs. Wollesey,” 
Catherine said determined!}’. “ How should 
I look by the side of other girls who will 
wear them? What would people think to 
see me so slouchy, when other women look 
neat and trim? Besides that, my wai-«t 
naturally tapers; I am just rne same size 
'with a corset as 'without one.” 


228 ^Tbe 5ug0crnaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 

“ I should think it would be, keeping it 
in staves ever since you were fourteen,” 
returned Mrs. Wollesey, now thoroughly 
disgusted. “I should think it would take 
some time for you to get yourself back into 
your natural condition.” 

“ I have a right to my own person, Mrs. 
Wollesey; I can do as I please, can’t I?” 
said Catherine, nettled to the point of indigna- 
tion. “ I shall never give them up and it is 
of no use to talk further on the subject.” 

Mrs. Wollesey tried her best to keep back 
the words which seemed trembling on the 
tip of her tongue. She looked down at 
Catherine, and the eyes of the two women 
met, and flashed like swords. Then, catch- 
ing a heav}’ breath, the sick girl sank back 
into the great chair like one suddenl}’ 
deprived of life. The confusion and 
excitement of the evening had been more 
than she could stand. Angered at herself 
for broaching the subject at a time so 
inopportune, Mrs. Wollesey flew into the 


ITbc Juggernaut of tbc fiboberna. 229 

kitchen storming and scolding, and ordered 
Mammy and Pappy to take charge of the 
girl, and tend her until she came to again. 

“ She will not die, of course,” she 
explained. “ Give her the best of care and 
attention, and see that she stays in bed, till 
she gets thoroughly able to get up once 
more.” 

Then followed a fierce tirade against the 
folly of fashions and the foolishness of 
women in general. She cited many 
instances of their lack of common sense, 
and in the course of her remarks laid the 
whole blame on the shoulders of the men, 
who, she said, had invented all pernicious 
customs solely for the furtherance of their 
own commercial and sensual schemes. 


230 


Ube Juggernaut of tbe /Dboberng. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The next morning bright and early Mrs. 
Wollesey was up giving orders, opening 
and slamming doors, flying from room to 
room, superintending the care of her dogs 
and horses and, amidst it all, finding oppor- 
tunity to minutel}’ rehearse her wrongs and 
sufferings. 

The attack of the previous evening having 
worn away, Catherine was again able to 
sit up among the pillows and take her break- 
fast. “You will live with 7ne now, girlie,” 
said Mrs. Wollesey patting her on the head 
and stooping over to whisper in her ear. 
“ I’ll have Pappy get your things and bring 
them over, and you must live with me till you 
are perfectly well and strong again. You 
must listen to me, and follow my instruc- 
tions, and you’ll soon get out of this and be 
as strong as ever. Pappy will give you a 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe ^oOerno. 231 

drive whenever you want it, and I will have 
him bring you to and from the store, when 
you feel like coming back to work again.” 
Bending her face still closer to the girl’s 
she whispered: 

“ Never, never tell the judge that Thornby 
was here. If he asks you, tell him you 
know nothing about it — for you don’t.” 

With a tragic look she left the room to 
give her parting injunctions to Mammy 
Woo. 

“ Watch over Richmond, and don’t let 
him out of your sight or out of the yard, 
and don’t forget that he must not come to 
the store to-day.” 

By noon Mrs. Wollesey had engaged a 
new force of clerks, and was engrossed in 
a maelstrom of business perplexities and 
minor worriments which drove Thornby’s 
image from her mind, and filled up the void 
which his sudden appearance had made in 
her existence. She plunged desperately 
into work, performing the labor of several 


232 


Cbc juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 


persons, instructing the clerks in their vari- 
ous departments, selling and marking goods, 
watching for blunders, scolding and smiling, 
and withal frightening her clerks until they 
hardly dared speak above a whisper. At 
one time she shook the errand boy soundly 
for the trifling mistake of a few pennies in 
making change. Then before he had time 
to forget it she was praising him for his 
sterling worth of head and heart, and point- 
ing out to him the intrinsic qualities which 
would eventually give him a high position 
in the world of commerce. 

Left to quietude and seclusion, Catherine 
soon found her nervous symptoms giving 
way to a gradually returning strength of 
mind and body. After dinner she was well 
enough to dress herself, and be up and 
around the house and yard. She found 
much to enlist her attention and to keep 
her thoughts from her enfeebled condition. 
The peculiar arrangement of the rooms, 
the odd and extravagant taste dis- 


Z\ic juggernaut of tbe ^oOerns. 233 

played, the numerous specimens of rocks, 
stones, ores and moss agates gathered from 
the Bad Lands and the Black Hills amused 
and delighted her, until she found her in- 
validism an easy, luxurious state pleasant to 
contemplate. In the main part of the 
house was a room primarily designed for a 
parlor; it was beautifully carpeted, papered 
and curtained, the carpet being nearly hid- 
den by rugs made from the skins of animals. 
Fierce heads with protruding tusks and 
gleaming eyes dotted the floor, while over 
each door was placed an immense pair of 
antlers, polished and mounted, and orna- 
mented daintily with bows of ribbon. On 
the table stood a box of cigars, around 
which was scattered a profusion of books, 
magazines and papers. Among them were 
the “Truth Seeker,” “Lucifer,” and a 
neatly bound bound volume of “ The Story 
of An African Farm.” Catherine sus- 
pected that this must be the haunt of Bit- 
sell and she condemned herself severely. 


234 ^Tbc Juggernaut of tbc /Iboberns. 

promising to stay in the house no longer 
than her illness should make necessary. 

After the novelty of her surroundings 
had begun to wear away, her mind reverted 
to the office and its surroundings. She 
thought of riarland as he had seemed on 
the day she had first met him at the office; 
of his foolish gallantries, and his attempts 
later to get upon a footing of familiarity 
with her; of the repulse she had given him, 
and of the change in his manners and sen- 
timents as time had passed. She thought 
of the night he had brought her home sick 
and faint, and of the passionate kiss he had 
left upon her brow. In memory she saw 
him as she had seen him when she came 
back to work again, and her bosom swelled 
with pride as she reviewed the means by 
whch she had compelled him to treat her 
with dignity and respect. She had at last 
forced him to understand that she was not 
of the soft and yielding kind, to be moulded 
and worked as frivolity or passion might 


(Tbc juggernaut of tbe /Iboberna. 


235 


dictate. She thought of his kindnesses, 
the deference which he manifested in every 
act and word and look. Since he could 
not drag her from the heights on which 
she stood, he was ready to fall at her feet 
and worship her, as men in the olden times 
had paid homage to a goddess or a queen. 
She knew from what he had told her of 
himself, and she could read by that discern- 
ment which enables one of the opposite sex 
to judge another, that in matters relating to 
women he was without scruple and without 
honor, so far as his own being was con- 
cerned. Still, slow and senseless fellows 
were what she detested quite above all else. 
Once, when she was very young, she had 
been beloved by a man who had money 
and love, truth and honor to bestow upon 
the woman he should marry; but she had 
hated him because he was too good to be 
interesting. From girlhood she had been 
attracted by “ fast ” and brilliant men of 
the world, had been repelled by those who 


236 Xlbc juggernaut of tbe ilRobcrns. 

were lacking in boldness and dash. A 
goody-goody man she looked upon as a 
weak, effeminate creature, to be scorned as 
a driveller. 

So Catherine busy with her thoughts and 
the new scenes around her, surrounded by 
the comforts and luxuries of Mrs. Wol- 
lesey’s home, soon grew strong enough to 
return to her work again. In the meantime 
Mrs. Wollesey had sent for her trunk and 
had converted the pleasantest room in the 
house into a boudoir for her bookkeeper. 
The place was so comfortable and even 
elegant, and Mrs. Wollesey ’s entreaties f oi- 
lier to remain at her home were so urgrent, 
that she finally gave up the idea of return- 
ing to her old lodgings, where board was 
high and accommodations cheap. Since 
she must work for Mrs. Wollesey, she 
might as well live with her; when a girl 
was forced to make her own way in the 
world, she could not spend too much time 
over hair-splitting problems, which were no 
concern of hers, after all. 


?rbc Juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrno. 237 

On the subject of corset-wearing Mrs. 
Wollesey had again and again approached 
her, from all angles and on all sides; but 
the girl was as invulnerable as adamant. 
Argument, logic, persuasion, each in its 
turn failed to induce her to discard the 
habit, even temporarily to test the matter. 
She averred, and she tried to sustain her 
statement by facts, that a corset was harm- 
ful only when the wearer clasped it first, 
and tightened it afterwards by the aid of 
the bedpost. At last Mrs. Wollesey washed 
her hands of the whole affair, threatening 
that ‘‘ when she got down in bed again she 
might take care of herself, as she would aid 
and abet no one in the process of suicide.” 

A few weeks after Catherine had re- 
turned to her two separate lines of work, 
she came into the office one morning and 
found Harland at his desk, dressed in a 
faultless suit of black. His tie was immac- 
ulate and his collar shone like ivory. By 
contrast, his hair was so black that it shim- 


238 Zbc Juggernaut of tbc /Moderns. 

mered with the changeable tints of the 
raven. That magical, mysterious power to 
be found in a well-cut coat and a smoothly 
shaven chin struck straight to her foolish 
little heart, and it beat so fast that she 
could get her breath only by sheer en- 
deavor. 

“ Miss Huntley,” he said binding a num- 
ber of papers together with a rubber band 
and depositing them in the safe, “ I have 
been called to Deadwood upon a case of 
some importance, and it will be necessary 
for me to leave you in charge of the office 
until I return. If you find the place the 
graveyard that it was to me during your 
absence, I honestly pity you from the bottom 
of my heart. To come in and see the 
machine sitting there silent and covered, 
and the room empty and uncared for, made 
me so miserable that I kept the office locked 
most of the time and staid downstairs on 
the street, loafing.” 

An intonation in his voice startled her. 


XLbc Jugflcrnaut of tbc ^oOerns. 239 

She had just removed her wraps, and pick- 
ing up her hat, she made a pretense of 
smoothing out the ribbons and dusting them 
with her lingers. As she looked up into his 
eyes and met their slumbering, flickering 
light, she dropped her gaze as if dazzled by 
their brilliancy. Reaching for her writing 
pad and book, she dropped into a chair by 
the typewriter with a light and dizzy feeling 
in her head, and a faint and hollow throbbing 
in her heart. 

Harland stood at the corner of the desk 
watching her hungrily out of the corner of 
his eyes. 

Taking up a package of papers he sat 
down by her side and dictated page after 
page. When he had finished, he arranged a 
huge pile of documents on the desk. 

“You may file these letters, and make 
copies of the papers in these cases, taking 
your own time and pleasure in doing so, of 
course. You can take your own time and 
have things your own way. It is needless 


240 


Zlbe Juggernaut of tbc flboberne. 


for me to say the main thing is to keep the 
office open and to look after the collections.” 

He got up and put on his overcoat, which 
came nearly to the floor. Arrayed in this 
garment his form, tall, strong and supple, 
was simpl}' magnifleent. With a shy glance 
she took in its outlines. A thought swift 
as the dart of an arrow flew into her brain 
and set it throbbing like wine. His eyes 
had magnetized her and the charm of his 
form had made her drunk. A bright flow 
of scarlet swept over her face. Harland 
saw it and his own heart beat furiously. 

“ Miss Huntley! ” 

He stepped toward her. A fawn held at 
bay by a hungry hound would not have 
looked more terror-stricken. 

“ Miss Huntle}^, good-bye. I shall not see 
you again for some time.” 

“Good-bye, Mr. Harland,” she echoed, 
unable to move her eyes from the mesmeric 
gaze of his own. 

“ Look after things about the office, and 


XTbc juggernaut of tbe ^oDerno. 241 

if I am especially needed wire me at Dead- 
wood.” 

He moved a trifle nearer to her side and 
held out his hand. As she placed her pink 
palm in his strong grasp he felt her hand 
quiver like the flutter of a wounded bird. 

For an instant the two stood like statues, 
motionless and silent, each fascinated by 
the other to the point of intoxication. Then 
dropping her hand he turned and hurried 
across the room to the door. As his hand 
touched the knob he looked back. For a 
minute he stood irresolute gazing into her 
face, dreading to leave, and not daring to 
return. an effort, he opened the door 
and rushed madly down the stairs, and out 
into the street. 

To Catherine work had never seemed so 
arduous and time had never dragged so 
wearily by. The little office with its piles 
of musty books and papers, its dust- 
begrimed windows and walls, now took on 


242 


Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /Bboberns. 


the air of a prison house. With Harland’s 
going had fled her zest for labor; tasks that 
before had seemed light and pleasant, now 
degenerated into absolute drudgery. From 
between the lines of every page burned 
Harland’s eyes as he had held her hand at 
parting. In spirit and thought she was as 
much in his presence as if miles and miles 
had not divided them. Ah ! she thought, 
what would life be in the future if she were 
compelled to work among strange scenes and 
strange people, and never look upon the 
form that had become more dear to her than 
all the world besides? At best, at the very 
best, what could it mean to her now ? But 
she could listen to his voice, she could see 
him enter the room smiling with that light 
upon his face which told her what he never 
need frame in words. That was worth 
living for. That would rob life of its ennui 
and its bitterness, and make existence not 
simply endurable, but happy! 

Ah, poor little Catherine! How ignorant 


trbc Juggernaut of tbc /Bboberns. 243 

of her own nature! How ignorant of the 
subtle hypnotic fascinations of the thing 
called love — the thing which poets and 
novelists have misrepresented, until it has 
become a snare for the feet of the unwary! 

The day following Harland’s departure 
Catherine sat behind the typewriter haunted 
by his face, dark and passionate, as she had 
last seen it at the door. Contracts, notes, 
mortgages, she copied them all as if she 
were an automaton, while her mind rested 
on the man who had slowly and half uncon- 
sciously robbed her of her own personality. 
It was nearl}' time to close the office. Out- 
side, the snow was falling slowly in broad 
soft flakes. She got up and, covering the 
machine, was making ready to replenish 
the Are and shut off the drafts, when the 
door opened and Harland stood at the 
threshold holding both arms toward her, 
neither moving nor speaking. 

“ What has brought you home so soon 


244 


XLbc juggernaut of tbe /llboOerns. 


she asked, not knowing what she was saying. 

‘‘’‘Ton have — and you know you have!” 
He took a few quick steps and was by her 
side. “ I cannot live away from you, Cath- 
erine; I cannot work without you. We 
can never go on in the future as we have 
done in the past. Catherine, I am not mis- 
taken : you return my love ! ” 

He tried to take her in his arms, but she 
pushed him away and moved back a little. 

“ Oh, darling, if you would only let me 
touch you; even touch your hand, or kiss 
the tips of your fingers! I am mad, delir- 
ious — lost to everything in life but 3- on. M}’ 
life is absolutely in 3’our hands to do 
with it as }’Ou will. I cannot live awa}’ 
from 3’ou ! I will give up everything, home, 
prospects, friends, family ties, all heaven 
and earth, just for the right to hold }^ou in 
my arms and call }’ou m3' own ! Come with 
me, darling, let us give up the world and 
start out alone; just 3'Ou and I, dearest, just 
3^11 and I ! ” 


Zbe 3ug9ernaut of tbc /Dboberns. 245 

“Oh, Harland!” she cried, leaning her 
head on her hand and staggering up against 
the wall, “ what must it be for me to stand 
against the powers of your persuasions, and 
my own feelings, too!” 

For a minute he reeled as if some one 
had struck him a heavy blow. Then with 
a quick bound he caught her in his arms, 
and covered her face and neck with kisses. 
She sank resistless upon his bosom gasping 
for breath. Then, with a mighty effort, she 
wrenched herself from his embrace and 
tottered toward the door: 

“ Go home, go home to your wife — and 
let me go home and die! ” 

Her voice was hoarse and hollow; she 
breathed like one who had just been snatched 
from the doors of death. She reached for 
her wraps and opened the door. Following 
her, Harland stood in the doorway and 
watched her stagger down the steps like 
one who had been stupefied by drugs. 


246 


XTbe Juggernaut of tbe /Hboberns. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

How Catherine passed the following night 
she never knew. Sleepless and benumbed, 
her individuality merged in that of the man 
who had slowl}" gained control of her mind 
and spirit, she lay like one under the power 
of hypnotism. On rising, she realized in a 
dull way that she was controlled by an 
influence which it was beyond her strength 
to understand or to combat. She would 
remain at the store until she could think 
again, until the influence had worn away 
and left her free to act and free to think as 
her own better judgment should dictate. 
All day at the desk she toiled, mechanically 
transferring accounts and footing columns, 
living over and over again the scene wherein 
Harland had thrown himself at her feet, 
confessing his love with a desperation 
equalling in intensity and devotion that of a 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbe /iBoberne. 


247 


knight of the olden times. During the day 
Mrs. Wollesey had questioned her on many 
points. Her quick eye had detected the 
change in the girl. Suspicious of all men, 
understanding Catherine’s frank and inno- 
cent nature, and knowing the reputation 
which Harland had long borne for his 
intrigues with the opposite sex, she was 
not long in guessing that he was in some 
way connected with her strange behavior. 

When the work of the day was done Mrs. 
Wollesey, picking up the waste basket, 
emptied its contents on the floor. Catherine 
watched her movements, wondering what 
strange freak had possessed her to look 
through the contents before putting them 
into the stove. 

Holding up a crumpled piece of yellow 
paper Mrs. Wollesey called to her book- 
keeper: 

“ Turn to M. D. Mullen’s account at once.” 

Catherine picked up the ledger: 

“ M. D. Mullen has no account on the 


248 ttbc Juggernaut of tbe /iboberns. 

ledger.” She turned to the entries made 
in the journal. “His name is not on the 
books at all.” 

Mrs. Wollesey jumped up and ran toward 
the girl as if she meant to strike her in the 
face. 

“ Catherine Huntley, look here; do you see 
that? A ten-dollar account thrown into 
the waste basket! The name of Simpkins 
is on the check, and the matter lies between 
you and Simpkins — no, the check has been 
on the file. I have trusted you, Catherine, 
as I have seldom trusted man or woman, 
and now I find — ” 

Catherine’s lips trembled and her eyes, 
clear and honest, slowly filled with tears. 
Mrs. Wollesey was touched by her attitude. 
Her heart always melted if the offending 
party sought refuge in tears or professed 
repentance. 

“ Catherine,” she said coming up to her 
side, “you have something on your mind 
that’s troubling you! Cast it aside; put it 


G:bc Juggernaut of tbe /flbobcrns. 249 

under your feet from this time on; as long 
as it is there, you can never give me the 
time and thought you owe me.” 

She put her hand on the girl’s arm and 
gazed at her as if she would peer into the 
innermost depths of her heart. Catherine 
winced under her scrutiny and bent her 
eyes on the floor. 

“ It’s a love-affair ; you can’t fool a 
woman as skilled in the ways of the human 
heart as / am. When a girl gets to dawd- 
ling over her work, and sits dream3^-e3^ed, 
staring into space for long stretches at a time, 
it is a never-failing s3miptom there is a man 
at the bottom of it somewhere.” 

After a slight pause she pronounced her 
name : 

“Catherine ! ” 

A medley of meanings was hidden in the 
inflection. , Mrs. Wollesey might have 
guessed her secret, and might be going to 
upbraid her to her face; or she might be 
only thinking of the horrid blunder; per- 


250 Zbc juggernaut of tbc /iboDcrns. 

haps she spoke in general terms, expecting 
thereby to gain her confidence. 

“Now, my dear, own up and tell me all 
about it. You are broke up on some one, 
aren’t you ? ” she urged laying the ac- 
count in the journal and coming back to 
Catherine. 

“No, I am not,” Catherine said curtly. 

Mrs. Wollesey smiled and looked as if 
she did not believe it. 

“ I am a plain, blunt person, my dear ” 
(she came closer to her friend and placed 
her arm around her), “ but I am your friend, 
your very desl friend, believe me. I am 
much older and more experienced than you, 
and if you will give me your confidence, it 
may save you endless, endless trouble. No 
woman ever yet loved a man who had not 
to pass through an Inferno worse than 
Dante’s.” 

Catherine’s face paled, as she shrank back 
with a reserve which cut her employer to 
the quick. 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oOerns. 251 

‘‘ I have no secrets to tell, Mrs. Wolle- 
sey, and I assure you that my heart is whole 
and my fancy free.” 

She tried to smile, but her lips only 
relaxed their tension a trifle and quivered 
with the faintest perceptible motion. Mrs. 
Wollesey’s arm dropped from her com- 
panion’s waist, and bustling about the store 
in a flutter of haste, she soon stood bon- 
netted and gowned for the street. Just as 
they were leaving the store they were met 
by Bitsell, who shook hands with both 
ladies and declared that he was so sick of 
business and travel that he would never 
leave home again, after he had disposed of 
about thirty or forty pieces of land which 
he then had on hand, and which were 
heavily covered with mortgages. 

“I caught my death of cold on the train, 
Sadie,” he said in a whining tone, “ and 
have been wheezing all the way from Oma- 
ha. The carelessness of the train people 
is simply criminal. I shall be troubled with 


252 Zbc Juggernaut of tbe jfflboOcrns. 

my lungs and throat for the rest of the win- 
ter, and in all probability end it all by a 
fatal attack of pneumonia or tuberculosis.” 
This was between a series of gasps and 
stuffy little wheezes which did not elicit 
from Mrs. Wollesey all the sympathy which 
he had evidently hoped to get. 

They started on down the street, Bitsell 
between the two ladies, Mrs. Wollesey 
talking incessantly. She spoke of the con- 
dition of her business, of her prospects for 
trade, her manner of buying goods, her net 
profits, told him of Catherine’s illness, gave 
an account of what she called the strike at 
the store and, in brief, touched lightly upon 
everything that had happened since his de- 
parture some weeks before. 

On reaching home Catherine went direct- 
ly to her own room, whither she was soon 
followed by Mrs. Wollesey. 

“Never by word or hint,” she whispered 
“ say anything to the judge about Thornby’s 
visit. He would never get over it; it 


Zbc juggernaut of tbc /iboOerns. 253 

would break his heart. No good could 
come of telling it; on the other hand, it 
would do much harm to us both. The dear 
old judge, he loves me so; he is so true and 
honest! But he has some ways that make 
me very, very tired ! He is so finicky and 
old-fashioned. He smokes, and coughs 
and wheezes, expecting to be doctored and 
petted like a little boy. Oh dear! I can’t 
stand his hacking: and smoking:. There’s 
nothing the matter with his lungs, except 
tobacco; he has got what my mother used 
to call ‘ hypo.’ ” 

‘‘ Does Bitsell live here?” ventured Cath- 
erine timidl}^ 

No, he rents the front rooms upstairs 
and takes his meals down town; but, of 
course, if he is not feeling well I have to 
take care of him.” 

She looked as if the thought was anything 
but pleasant and tapped her foot impatiently 
against the foot of the bed. 

Catherine did not ask any more questions 


254 c:be juggernaut of tbc flioberus. 

but sat down on the side of the bed and 
commenced to unbutton her shoes. Mrs. 
Wollesey watched her furtively. 

“ Catherine,” she cried, “ you do not 
understand me. I am years and years be- 
yond -my time and beyond my kind. I have 
dared to think, I have dared to reason, I 
have dared to live in practice what I believe 
in theory, and the world gives me nothing 
but abuse and mud and slander.” 

Catherine intuitively grasped the meaning 
of these remarks. 

“ Mrs. Wollesey,” she said, ‘‘ it seems to 
me it would have been better all around if 
you had married Bitsell. If you found 3'ou 
could not be happ}' together you could have 
divorced yourselves. As matters are now, 
people and ideas are against you, 3^ou know.” 

Mrs. Wollese3^ shuddered and dropped 
into a rocker before the mirror. 

“ If divorces were made as easy as mar- 
riages; if laws placed the interests of women 
on a par with the interests of men; if a 


Ube Juggernaut of tbc /Bbobcrne. 255 

married woman were given the right to her 
own person, the right to her own property, 
the right to her own children, then — then — ” 

She waited a minute before she spoke 
again : 

“ Do you suppose, child, that I don’t 
understand how I am held in the opinions 
of those around me? Do you think there 
is an hour in the day when I don’t writhe, 
and tight, and struggle against the environ- 
ment which human hands have built for me 
in the days of their savagery and superstition ? 
Child, child, in the faces of the women 
whom I see on the street, in the manners of 
the people I meet in business, on every side, 

at every turn, I read — I No wonder I am 

a wild cat, a vixen, a tiger! No wonder I 
am, not 07ie person, but a number of per- 
sons, with as many faces as the Lernean 
Hydra with its hundred hissing heads.” 

Her face had grown as pinched and hag- 
grard as that of an old woman’s. After 
shading her eyes and thinking a long time, 
she exclaimed vehemently: 


256 XLbe 5uggcrnaut of tbc rtbo&crns. 

“ After all, what do I need to care what 
the world may say or think of me ? I have 
my home and my store, and my own per- 
sonal freedom. And I have Bitsell’s love 
and loyalty, which many a wife would give 
all heaven and earth to gain. Why should 
I worry, at least as long as my pocket-book 
holds out and my bank account stands good ? 
Ah, I have simpl}’ been born out of time, 
and people will never understand me while 
I live!” 

“You told me once that 3’ou had always 
cared for Thornby. Why should you need 
to form any kind of an alliance with 
another man, Mrs. Wollesey.?” 

“ I cannot explain to you, Catherine, so 
that you would understand me. I will onl}’ 
say that the common idea is that by nature 
men are Mormons or polygamists, and that 
woman’s nature, in direct opposition to 
theirs, is monogamous. They are handi- 
capped by customs, by education, and b}^ 
standards which none have ever dared to 


XLbc Juggernaut ot tbe /Robcrns. 


257 


question. I cannot explain so you will 
know what I mean.” 

An unutterable sadness stole into her face, 
but it was gone in an instant. A gleam of 
defiance glinted in her eyes as she straight- 
ened herself back with the hauteur of a 
queen. 

“ I cannot bend my thoughts to the 
world’s way of thinking, and it will not be 
bent to mine. It is none of the world’s 
business ! ” 

So speaking, she got up and bade Cather- 
ine good-night, and left the room. 

The next morning on her return to the 
office Catherine found Bitsell at the desk 
looking very pale and wheezing like an asth- 
matic. 

“ 2^ou don’t seem to be well either. Miss 
Huntle}',” he said. “Have Mrs. Wollese}’ 
and Harland been giving you too much 
work to do since I left ? ” 

He looked at the dark shadows under 
her eyes, noting the unusual pallor of her 


258 XLbe Juggernaut of tbe /BboDerns. 

face and the pinched lines about the mouth. 

“ My health is never very good,” she 
replied, ‘‘ but I think the work has nothing 
to do with it.” 

As she laid her wraps upon the lounge a 
tiny Maltese kitten ran mewing out from 
under it. She stooped and stroked its blue 
fur. Against the rich Maltese color the soft 
texture of her hand caught Bitsell’s eye. 

“ What a shapely hand. Miss Huntley!” 
he said. But before his compliment had 
time to take full effect, the kitten sprang 
from her hand to the window and pounced 
upon a large fly which was crawling feebly 
over the glass, trying to warm itself in the 
sunlight. The fly buzzed in the kitten’s 
teeth and Catherine put her hands to her 
ears, shuddering. 

“ It is the old, old story of the strong 
devouring the weak,” she mused; “every- 
thing in life and nature seems based on this 
principle.” 

Bitsell laughed at her serious face. 


XLbc juggernaut of tbe /RoOcrna. 


259 


“ Why must it be so ? ” she went on. 
“ Who has willed it ? The strong erushes 
the weak, from the lowest forms of lif? to 
the highest! I wonder if Heaven itself is 
gained — ” 

She stopped, afraid to utter the thought 
that had come into her mind. 

“ In the ages ahead of us,” observed Bit- 
sell, coughing at regular intervals between 
his words, “when mankind will have learned 
the secrets of the universe, when the forces 
of nature are understood and controlled, 
then, and only then, will humanity rid itself 
of the selfishness which is still an integral 
part of human nature.” 

“Why must the process be so slow?” 
said Catherine, “why come only through 
evolution? Think of generations and gen- 
erations toiling through the ages that others 
may reap the fruits themselves will never 
gather. I cannot understand it.” 

These remarks gave him a glimpse into 
her mind and heart which pleased him 


26 o 


XLbc 3uggernaut of tbe /Bboberna. 


beyond expression. From the time that 
she had entered his employ he had admired 
her for her quiet reserve, her attention to 
business, and the absence of anything like 
the frivolity which he so much detested in 
the other sex. He sat watching her keenl}" 
for a little while, making a mental contrast 
between her and Mrs. Wollesey. Lovable, 
honest, sweet-tempered and intelligent, she 
would be an honor to the man who was 
fortunate enough to win her love. Glanc- 
ing up at him and seeing an expression so 
full of kindly interest and sympathy, she 
felt emboldened to say what she had decided 
before coming to the office she would tell 
him, 

“ Mr. Bitsell,” she began, shifting her 
position and picking at her nails with the 
end of her paper knife, “ I must leave the 
office at once — to-day. Can 3’ou arrange 
to settle with me now ? ” 

‘‘Leave the office?” he questioned in 
surprise; “what’s the matter, that 3^011 


tlbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 


261 

must leave the office to-day? Why must 
you leave us at all ? Don’t you like it here, 
or — ” 

“ I have no fault to find with the place, 
Mr. Bitsell,” she interrupted, “ but I must 
leave the office at once.” 

“Is it too hard for you here; don’t we 
pay you enough for the amount of work 
that you do ? ” 

She did not reply, but got up and went to 
the window. 

“We must have some one,” continued 
Bitsell, “ and it is not quite fair for 3’ou to 
leave us without giving us a few days’ no- 
tice, at any rate. Don’t }-ou and Harland 
get along all right?” 

She winced, and the corners of her 
mouth drooped pitifull3\ 

“ Can’t you see — don’t you know — must I 
tell you wh^’ I am leaving the office? ” 

The words dropped from her lips like 
heavy weights. She raised her e^’es to his 
face with a mingled expression of determi- 


262 


XTbe Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns. 


nation and despair. He came toward her 
his eyes alight with a suspicion of the truth. 

“ What has Harland been saying to you, 
anyway.^” he demanded fiercely; “what 
has he been doing? Miss Huntley, look 
here; will you let me give you a little 
advice, and will you take it in the same 
spirit in which it is given? Answer me.” 

She inclined her head. He went through 
a preliminary fit of coughing, expectorating 
freely. 

“First, let me say to you, by way of ex- 
planation, that men in general don’t treat 
young girls who are out in the world in a 
hand-to-hand struggle with it, as they do 
young girls who have a home and a position 
in society, and who are not forced to earn 
their own living. My advice to you is simp- 
ly this: If Harland gives youany more of his 
sweetness, just pick up a paperweight and 
hurl it at his head; that will cool him down 
about as quick as anything you can do to 
him, and it will be just the thing that he 


?rbc Jugcicrnaut of tbe /ilbobcrns. 263 

needs, besides. A girl must take care of 
herself^ Miss Huntley; a man is not going 
to do it for her. There is no use in run- 
ning away; if you are going to work in an 
office, you must learn how to take care of 
yourself and how to deal with men. I 
guess you had better stay a few days and 
think the matter over. I shall be here after 
this, and if he does not attend to his own 
affairs, just speak to me about it, and — I’ll 
be hanged if I don’t take him in hand in a 
way that will be anything but pleasant!” 

An awkward silence followed, which 
Catherine broke by going to the machine. 
Bitsell stood for a long time regarding her 
wonderingly. 

“ I have been very foolish, Mr. Bitsell,” 
she said, taking the cover from the machine 
and setting it on the table, “ and I have put 
Mr. Harland in an unenviable light besides. 
Don’t say anything to him about it; don’t 
blame him, he is no more at fault than I. He 
has never insulted me. Oh, can’t you under- 


264 ^Tbe Juggernaut of tbe jfflbobcrno. 

stand without my telling you — that — our 
friendship must end where it is now? And 
won’t you make him understand that he has 
no right — ” 

Her throat swelled and her eyes filled 
with tears. At this revelation Bitsell 
dropped into a chair, letting his hat fall upon 
the floor and his arms swing listlessly down 
at his sides. In this attitude he sat staring: 
fixedly into her flushed and tear-stained face 
until Catherine’s voice, low and muffled, 
brought him to his senses : 

“Mr. Bitsell!” 

“ Miss Huntley,” he said, jumping to his 
feet and picking up his hat, “ you must be 
true to your better self. That higher sense 
within will tell you what is right and wrong: 
follow its promptings, /cannot help you; 
no one can help you^ What you will do, 
and what you will not do, depends upon 
yourself, after all; and remember that the 
strong devours the weak, from the lowest 
forms of life to the highest.” 


tlbe juggernaut of tbe ^oOerns. 


265 


' CHAPTER XIX. 

At an early hour Catherine had retired, 
but she could not sleep. The old, old 
thoughts that never left her mind by day or 
night surged through her brain with such 
force that she could only lie, and think and 
think. As time crept on toward midnight she 
was aroused by a gentle tap at her bedroom 
door. Before she could answer Mrs. Wol- 
lesey had entered, clad in her night clothes, 
and was slipping up to the side of the bed. 
She reached over and placed her hand on 
Catherine’s brow. 

“ If you are not asleep, dear, I should like 
to talk to you.” 

“ No, I am not asleep,” said the girl, sit- 
ting up in bed and wondering what had 
brought Mrs. Wollesey into her room at 
that late hour of the night. 


266 Zbe Juggernaut of tbe /iboDcrns. 

“ I couldn’t sleep for thinking of you, 
dearie ! I have wanted so long to talk to 
you, so I just rushed right in to see you 
now.” 

She got up and slid back the folding 
doors, and went into the other room and 
opened the grate. 

‘‘We don’t need a lamp,” she remarked, 
with a vigorous stirring among the coals 
and embers. Then, drawing two chairs up 
before the stove, she sat down in one of 
them and motioned to Catherine to take the 
other. 

“ Dearie,” she broke out abruptly as if she 
would at once cast down the load that was 
upon her mind, “ do you know you are a 
girl that men would consider very beauti- 
ful.?” 

The girl laughed and toyed with one of 
her braids. 

“ I don’t think I possess that rare kind of 
beauty that drives men mad — not the Grecian 
type, I am sure, ” she said resting her feet on 


Zbc 3uggentaut of tbe ^oDerno. 267 

the fender and her elbows on her knee. “ I 
have met many girls who are much hand- 
somer than I, and many who are not so 
good-looking. When I see other girls less 
favored than myself, I have no particular 
fault to find.” 

‘‘Yes, you are lovely. Your hair has 
that peculiar tint, rich and rare, that artists 
have painted and novelists have admired; 
your hands and feet, and the mould of your 
features, are certainly those of a lady. 
Added to this you have that strange, inde- 
finable power to please and to attract, to 
win and to magnetize, and that power 
extends to women as well as to men. If 
you had been born among the wealthy all 
these charms might have proved a blessing 
to you.” 

She reached over and took the girl’s 
hand, shapely and slender, and caressed it 
softly. 

“ But you must wor/6, you must take your 
place in the world side by side with men; 


268 


Zbe Juggernaut of tbc jflboOcrns. 


not the men you have read about in novels 
and poems, but live flesh-and-blood men, 
who drink and swear, play pool and billiards, 
keep the company of fast women, and yet 
who look to unsophisticated girls like the 
heroes that they play they are. 

“I want to tell you of 7nyse1f^ Catherine; 
I want to put you on your guard. Your 
work will throw you constantly in the com- 
pany of men, the wanton, soulless, lecher- 
ous, selfish brutes who are always on the 
alert for some girl who is soft and honest 
enough to listen to their tales of love. I 
shall tell you what I am going to tell you 
because I know that you will be beset by 
beasts in human form.” 

It was some time before she spoke again. 
During the silence her face grew as cold 
and hard as marble. 

“ I was married when I was very young 
to a man many years older than myself. He 
was wealthy, and I was poor. I loved him, 
and I should have married him had he been 


^Tbc ^ugflcrnaut of tbe ^obcrne. 269 

penniless. I say I loved him — ah, I wor- 
shipped him as the saints in heaven are said 
to worship at the Throne of Light! To 
me he was the embodiment of all that is 
pure, true, great, beautiful and divine. In 
the candor and trust and purit}^ of my own 
heart I said that I had found the comple- 
ment of myself, and I thought his life was 
as pure and as spotless as my own. He 
loved me for m3’ beaut}’ — I was said to be a 
wonderfully handsome girl when I was 3’our 
age — for my independence of spirit and 
fearlessness of thought and, more than all, 
for m3" innocence and virtue. lie gave me 
the key to his character before we were 
married; but I listened to m}^ mother and 
took him back into m3" favor again. It 
was a few da3"s before our wedding da}’, 
the last visit he should make before our 
marriage; and, Catherine, he tfied to take 
advantage of m3" love for him and to per- 
suade me to grant him the rights the law 
allows onl}" in wedlock. I sent him from 


270 Zbe Juggernaut of tbc /lioDerns. 

my side with scorn and indignation. I 
would not listen to reason or repentance. 
But I loved him; so when my mother 
explained that no man would marry a 
woman whose virtue would not endure the 
test he chose to make, and when he 
came again and again pleading for pardon, 
and professing that he only meant to see 
what I could stand, I listened and forgave 
him. My finer sense of right and wrong 
told me not to be cajoled by his sophistries. 
My heart rebelled against the thought that 
he might go here and there seeking for a 
girl who could withstand his temptations, 
taking advantage of those who could not, 
and marrying the one who was strong and 
pure enough to hold her ground against him. 
But we were married at last, and it never 
fell to the lot of mortal to be so happy as I 
for three short years. Ritchie, the little 
dimpled, rosy fellow, had come into our 
home; and heaven itself had no delights I 
would have exchanged for the two beings 


^Tbc juggernaut of tbc /Iboberne. 271 

who were all my life to me, my husband 
and my baby boy. I had a lovely home 
with all the comforts and luxuries that 
money could buy. But it did not last; a 
serpent crept into my Eden and destroyed it 
forever.” 

She buried her face in her hands and 
shuddered. When she looked up again in 
the red light from the stove her face looked 
cold and set. 

“My husband was a wealthy merchant 
and, among the people he kept in his employ, 
were many young girls and women. I had 
often noticed one girl in particular, a bru- 
nette with a bold and dashing face, and the 
tiniest hands I ever saw. She seemed to be 
a favorite with my husband. One evening 
when I had waited beyond the usual time 
for him and he did not come, I went to the 
store. The girl with the brunette face told 
me my husband would not be at the store 
that evening; that if I wanted to know 
where he was, she could give me some 


272 XLbc Juagcrnaut of tbc /Iboberne. 

information that would enable me to hnd 
him. I noticed the bitterness in her tones 
and the glitter in her eye, and wondered at 
them. I had started back home, when she 
followed me. 

“‘If you will come with me,’ she whis- 
pered, ‘I think lean show 3’ou your hus- 
band’s favorite haunt.’ 

“ Then she told me that one of the mrls 

o 

who had worked for him had given up her 
place at the store for an elegant flat of her 
own, where she was kept and supported b}' 
1113^ husband. I was furious, I refused to 
believe it. 

“ ‘ Why,’ I said, ‘ have you told me this: 
Even if it is frue how could you have the 
heart to tell me ? ’ 

“ I shall never forget her repl3': 

“‘Because I, too, am one of his victims.’ 

“ I went back to the store with the girl 
and we took a car to the other side of the 
city. We stopped in a thickly settled por- 
tion of a business centre; I followed her 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbe /llboDerns. 273 

and she led me to a suite of rooms in the 
second story of a brick building, which was 
at the time used for a clothing house. A 
room next to these apartments was empty. 
In this we secreted ourselves, so that by the 
opening of a door I could slip into another 
room, which was separated from the parlor 
by a heavy portilre only. I heard my 
husband’s voice. I crept near and pulled 
the curtain aside so that I could look into 
the apartment. There on the lounge lay the 
man I had married. On the floor at his side 
knelt a young girl, holding a baby with one 
arm, while the other was twined round the 
neck of the man who had sworn to leave 
all others and cling to me until death. She 
was a fragile, dainty thing with blue eyes 
and great coils of fluffy, silky hair. She 
wore a negligee robe of blue, and on her 
neck, which was as white as her baby’s, 
glistened a tiny thread of gold. My first 
impulse was to rush in and tear her limb from 
limb. But I did not move; I listened. I 


274 ^be Juggernaut of tbc /Dbobcrns. 

was filled with an insane desire to see and 
hear the worst. When I saw him, my 
husband, kiss the fair neck and bosom of 
the girl at his side, and heard him murmur 
the low protestations of his love, something 
in my head seemed to turn and snap, and I 
only knew that I thirsted to take the life of 
the man who had deceived me. I tore the 
curtain aside and, picking up a chair, would 
have crushed them both like insects beneath 
my feet; but the girl who came with me 
seized and held me. That was the last I 
knew. When I came to again I was in my 
own room with Mammy Woo, the windows 
darkened and ev^erything in the house as 
still as death. When I got up again, I was 
told that my husband, through his profligacy 
and dissipation, had imperilled our home 
and his business. As soon as I was able to 
see an attorney I began proceedings for a 
divorce; but while the suit was pending, my 
husband quitted the town. It was then that 
I went into the store and, lo get away from 


XLbc Juggernaut of tbc /Iftoberns. 


275 


the bitterness in my heart, plunged into a 
business career which has been successful 
beyond an3'thing that I ever dared to hope. 
But that man, that atrocious monster, I love 
him yet, and he hunts and hounds me still, 
because — ” 

Catherine crouched back among the cush- 
ions of the chair, shrinking up into a little 
heap of white. 

“The — girl — what — became of her?” 
she gasped. 

“ I never knew; /ler lot, at least, was no 
worse than mine. In sum and substance 
as far as the woman is concerned, it makes 
little difference whether she is a wife or a 
mistress. In either case, she is the man’s 
dupe and his slave.” 

No longer able to control her feelings, 
Catherine burst out into loud sobbing. Mrs. 
Wollese}^, kissing and smoothing her hair, 
clung to her as if she had been a little child. 

“ But,” resumed Mrs. Wollese}' when she 
had quieted the girl at her side, “ I learned 


276 tCbc Juggernaut of tbe /iboberns. 

still more of the ways of the world when I 
found myself, young and widowed, thrown 
among merchants, wholesale men, jobbers, 
runners, and business men generally. I saw 
the race of men, not as I had before seen 
them in society, but unmasked and bare, in 
their true tints and natural colors. Ah, my 
dear, they are all tarred with the same stick; 
the ‘ trail of the serpent is over them all ’ ! 
If I dared tell you ni)' experiences, the sleek 
and insidious approaches of lust, the polished, 
poetic advances of men of talent and posi- 
tion, the bold, undisguised overtures of 
vice; if I only dai'ed tell you how I have 
been assailed in the guise of love by men 
of all classes, you would wonder, child, that 
I have one spark of tenderness for humanity 
left in my heart! 

“You see, I had no man to lean upon and 
protect me in the eyes of the world, no 
father, husband, or brother. I was utterly 
alone with my baby, and was handsome 
enough to attract attention among hundreds. 


Zbc juggernaut of tbe /iRoDerns. 


277 


In novels, men never tr}' to get too familiar 
and leer into your eyes, or try to take your 
hand, or get a trifle closer than convention- 
ality would sanction. They just make love 
in an intense and dramatic style, at the right 
time, and are accepted. The attraction 
between the sexes, as painted by the poet 
and the novelist, turns out to be a very dif- 
ferent thing when studied in the light of 
every-day existence. Love as we see it in 
the Red Cross Edition is one thing; as we 
find it in actual life, it is quite another. 

“From infancy to old age, men are filled 
with the idea that to be a man is to possess 
rights that are not to be bounded by the 
moral, the upright and the honorable. 
Mothers rejoice at the birth of a boy; they 
weep, when a daughter is born. In the 
presence of their children they tell how a 
man may go anywhere, do anything, make 
any sort of a spectacle of himself, and still 
be upheld and respected by societ}’. They 
tell how impossible it is, if a woman once 


278 XTbc Juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 

falls under the wheels, for her ever to 
retrieve her position. They carefully watch 
and guard their girls, keeping them in igno- 
rance of the things most necessary to their 
health and self-protection. The result is 
that boys come to maturity with the idea 
that girls are their natural prey. They 
make a science, an art, of how to win a 
girl’s affections b}’ taking advantage of the 
very ignorance which their mothers fool- 
ishly think is their protection.” 

She stopped to put on some coal and stir 
up the fire. 

“Mothers in teaching their children only 
give expression to the masculine teachings 
of the centuries, and are probably more to 
be pitied than blamed. As far back as the 
dawn of creation, man has pointed his finger 
at woman as the cause of all the sin and 
sorrow in the world. From the time of 
Genesis he has held that women are being's 
of an inferior order, created only for their 
special uses in the perpetuation of the race^ 


Zhc Juggernaut ot tbe /Ibobcrns. 279 

All down the ages he has ignored woman’s 
mind, her possibilities, her powers, teaching 
her she was made merely for the perform- 
ance of certain functions the necessity or 
ability for performing which nature did not 
bestow upon the lords of the species. 
Priests and theologians have held up before 
her the story of Adam and Eve to prove 
that woman, beguiled by the serpent, had 
the curse of maternity placed upon her by 
an angered God, and so was designed to live 
in sorrow and travail the length of her days. 
Casting all the blame upon the mother of 
the race, men have considered themselves 
not to be held responsible as against the 
wiles of women who would tempt them to 
eat of the forbidden fruit. Woman, at 
once man’s angel and his tempter, has from 
time immemorial been his chattel and his 
slave. Bound down by ecclesiastical fanati- 
cism, fettered by' the ignorance and super- 
stition of her owners, she has lived through 
the ages and never questioned the right of 


28 o 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbc /BboDcrns. 


man to degrade and enslave her, because he 
has done it in the name of religion and the 
Master. In putting women on the plane of 
serf and slave, men have forged the chains 
which bind them body and soul, helpless, 
hopeless victims to their own licentious 
thoughts.” 

“ Mrs. Wollesey,” whispered Catherine, 
coming very close to her, “ why have you 
told me these things at this particular 
time ? ” 

The elder woman glanced at the shrink- 
ing figure in white, with its innocent child- 
ish face distorted by the horror of her 
words, and her heart smote her with the 
keenness of a knife. 

“ Darling, it is cruel and wicked in me to 
tell you these things; but I would help you 
if I could — I would save you\ You are as 
a child thrown among the savage animals of 
the jungles. Child, I would not harm or 
embitter you: I would save 3'Ou, if I could ! ” 

A patter of childish feet down the stair- 


G^bc Juggernaut of tbe /llbobcrns. 


281 


way, and a childish voice calling for its 
mother, put an end to the conversation. 

“ Mamma, mamma, would you leave 
your boy all alone in the middle of the 
night; would you? How could you, little 
mamma ? ” 

And Richmond holding his nightgown 
back from his feet, his long curls matted 
and tangled about his head, and his eyes 
only partially opened from his slumbers, 
flashed across the floor and climbed into 
his mother’s arms. Kissing Catherine’s 
whitened, tear-stained face, she took her 
boy in her arms and started up the stairs. 

The next day among legal documents, 
books and letters Catherine sat at her desk, 
her mind still burning with Mrs. Wollesey’s 
fierce philippic against the men, when a 
woman slightly inclined toward rotundity 
came in and asked for Harland. She held 
in her arms a child, almost a baby; a very 
small girl dressed in a long, red, eiderdown 
cloak toddled in behind her. It was a 


282 


tlbc Juggernaut of tbe /lioberns. 


mere infant, and would have been in its 
mother’s arms had it not been displaced by 
one younger and more helpless than itself. 

“ Mr. Harland is at Deadwood,” replied 
Catherine in answer to the woman’s ques- 
tion. “ He will not be back until to-morrow, 
I believe.” As she spoke the hollowness 
of her voice appalled her, for she saw at a 
glance that the tiny beings before her had 
the eyes of the man she loved. 

The woman’s face, though smooth and 
fair, was the face of one who had known 
the bitterest disappointment. From her 
eyes looked out a sad and hopeless resig- 
nation which made Catherine think of the 
eyes of a prisoner she had once seen, who 
knew that his last hope of escape had fled. 

“ Wh}^,” said the lady, seating herself 
and adjusting the dark curls of the little 
girl at her side, “ he came home last night. 
Hasn’t he been at the office to-day? He 
told me to call at three o’clock. Dolly, 
Dolly! ” she called in a peevish tone ad- 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 283 

dressing the little girl, who had picked up 
a pen and, dipping it in a bottle of ink, was 
drawing long lines across the blotter which 
covered the desk. She reached over and 
wrenched the pen from the child’s hand, 
and pulled her back to her side again. 

“ Come, come to mamma. Let’s go and 
find papa, Dolly.” 

But Dolly flew toward Catherine, cling- 
ing to her skirts and begging to be allowed 
to stay awhile at the office. 

“ Let me stay wi’ nice lady wi’ nice hair; 
please do, mam’. I’ll be dood.” 

“Yes,” said Catherine mechanically 
lifting Dolly up in her arms, “ let her stay 
with me, if she wants to, until you find Mr. 
Harland.” 

But Mrs. Harland, releasing Dolly’s arms 
from around Catherine’s neck, bore the 
child to the door struggling. The door 
had no sooner closed than it was opened 
again and Harland, followed by his wife 
and family, came in; he offered them seats 


284 ^bc juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrne. 

by the stove. Catherine he greeted without 
seeming to see her, and went to the drawer 
and got out his check book. 

“ How much do you need just now, 
Clara! That is, how much must you have 
to-day f ” 

“Twenty-five dollars,” his wife said, 
wearily pushing back a lock of hair from 
her temples, and watching Catherine’s hands 
as they flew over the keyboard as if moved 
by machinery. 

“Twenty-five dollars!” He looked as if 
his wife had suddenly fired a pistol in his 
face. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Clara!” 

“ The boys must have some new caps and 
boots, and Dolly needs a pair of new shoes 
again. Twenty-five dollars don’t go very 
far when it comes to laying it out on the 
house and four children — ^and — and — one’s 
own self, too ! ” 

His face darkened and a heavy scowl set- 


^Ibe Juggernaut of tbc /Ibobecns. 285 

tied over his brow. Mrs. Harland glanced 
from her husband to the face of the girl at 
the typewriter, and for a second a little 
gleam of malice shot from her eyes. It 
seemed to say, This is the man who has 
made himself so great before you ; this is 
the man who would have you believe he is 
the soul of generosity and manliness! 

“ It appears you are suddenly becoming 
very extravagant, Clara, to come down and 
demand twenty-five dollars, after I left 3^ou 
money enough to meet the expenses of the 
house for the next week. I don’t see what 
you want with it! ” 

She came up to his side and spoke in 
whispered tones. Catherine looked at the 
woman as she stood in contrast with her hus- 
band. Harland with his spick and span 
coat, his shiny tie, his faultless collar, the 
husband of this dowdy little woman with 
her faded hat and well-worn jacket, who 
stood importuning him for the sum of 
twenty-five dollars! 


286 z\ic juggernaut of tbe /Iftoberns. 

“Impossible,! can’t do it! I’ll let you 
have ten dollars, and if there are things you 
absolutely need. I’ll go down to Mrs. Wol- 
lesey’s and see you get them all right.” 

Mrs. Harland sighed and that far-away, 
hopeless expression again crept into her 
eyes, as they wandered back to the girl 
behind the machine. 

“All right. Write me out an order, or 
else come down with me and see I get the 
things I need.” 

He did not seem to catch the double 
meaning conveyed in her words and tones. 
He wrote out a check and handed it to her. 
She took it and, tying the baby’s hood over 
its head, got up and left the room. 

Harland rose to his feet, pushed back his 
chair, and strode impatiently across the 
floor with long emphatic strides. 

“ My wife has no idea of the value of a 
dollar. Miss Huntley, not the least in the 
world,” he said. “ She expects when she 
asks me for money that I must get it for 


trbe Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 287 

her, and the deuce is to pay in double quick 
time if I don’t do it.” 

Catherine hardly heard what he was say- 
ing. She had never before met or seen his 
family, and had scarcely looked upon him 
in the light of one who was really married. 
Now it flashed upon her with a force which 
stunned her, that she had been guilty of 
wronging and defrauding this woman and 
her children. High above the tumultuous 
thoughts which swept into her mind rang 
the words of Mrs. Wollesey like the roar 
of a locomotive. 

“Mr. Harland!” She jumped up from 
her work and came directly in front of him. 
As she stood there, erect and fearless, she 
looked like some tame animal which had 
suddenly turned upon its pursuer with a 
fury born of desperation. When he had 
last looked into her face he had seen a timid, 
cowering creature entirely at his mercy. 
Now he saw a being with the balance of 
power all on her own side, ready to annihi- 


288 Zbe Juggernaut of tbe flioOerns. 

late him with a turn of her head or a glance 
of her eye. 

“ After you left for Deadwood,” she went 
on in a voice as cold as steel, “ I decided 
to leave this place forever. But I shall not 
do so. Hereafter, there will be no danger 
of anything like friendship or intimacy 
between us; there will be no more occa- 
sion for delicate drawing of lines, or fenc- 
ing, or subterfuge. I am now ready, sir, to 
take your dictations.” 

He did not understand the immediate 
springs behind this sudden revulsion in her 
mind and feelings. She went to a drawer 
and took from it a little Bible with a cellu- 
loid cover and a silver clasp, and laid it 
upon the table. By it she placed two cabi- 
net photographs, one the likeness of a 
woman past middle age, the other the por- 
trait of a little girl. She had planned to do 
this after she had confided to Bitsell the 
hint of her regard for Harland. The 
action at this time had nothing to do with 


Z\ic Juggernaut of tbe flSoberne. 289 

her present change of disposition. He 
watched her movements with a set and 
dogged expression, and thought he under- 
stood what had prompted this strange met- 
amorphosis. As he looked at her entrenched 
behind her new and majestic reserve, he 
tacitly acknowledged to himself that he 
was not the captor now, but the captive. 
It seemed as if he could never take his eyes 
from her face. Thrilled and electrified, he 
sat like some charmed and helpless creature, 
unable to move or turn its head away except 
at the bidding of the charmer. Until this 
moment he had loved her passionately, 
wickedly. Now he wanted to prostrate him- 
self at her feet acknowledging his past feel- 
ings toward her. As she stood there imper- 
vious to the power of his presence she 
seemed a creature far removed from any- 
thing human. He wanted to get down upon 
his knees, or fall at her feet, or writhe in the 
dust before her. Had she not broken the 
spell by reaching for her pencil and book, 
he would have knelt at her feet and prayed. 


290 


tibe Juggernaut of tbc /Dboberno. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Winter had passed and spring had come. 
In all this time Harland and Catherine had 
sustained their new relations to each other 
without any overture on the part of Har- 
land. His love for her had settled into a 
chaste and honorable regard, which the 
sweetness and purity of her manners had 
made almost platonic. During these months 
he had often held himself up for his own 
inspection. What man, he would ask him- 
self, with the blood coursing so wildly 
through his veins, could treat a girl more 
honorably than he had done? Was there 
another man in all the world who could live 
for weeks and months by the very side of 
the woman who held the key to his inner- 
most depths, and still conduct himself as 
if he were a cold, phlegmatic being who 


TTbe Suflgcrnaut of tbc /Bboberne. 


291 


could not be stirred by the warmth and 
glamour of beauty? Time and again he 
had asked himself like questions, until he 
had come to admire the exceeding nobility 
and self-sacrifice of his own character. 

In spite of the dark cloud which hung 
over the name of Catherine, she had found 
some friends who stood by her stoutly and 
who fought many a valiant battle for her, 
when some virtuous woman rose in her 
wrath to denounce her as worse than the 
shameless women of the town. Her atten- 
tion to business, her straightforward ways, 
her ladylike manners, and the magnetism of 
her pfenuine worth of character made their 
impression upon all who came to know her 
intimately. She was always in her place 
at church, never out on the streets at night, 
never found ogling or flirting with young 
men. Always neat and well dressed, polite 
and pleasant, she convinced many that the 
scandal was without foundation, except that 
which lay in the minds of malicious persons 
or idle gossips. 


292 XLbe Juggernaut of tbe /iftoberns. 

The lines which caste draws in older 
places were wanting in Buffalo. Not that 
Western people lack the inborn tendency 
to erect class standards. The desire to 
hold self above others, to carp at people 
who are not of our own thoughts and hab- 
its, exists wherever humanity is found. 
Even in remote sections of the country, 
where the rural people have been born 
away from the influence of caste prejudice 
and class pride, there will be those who, by 
virtue of some attainment or some pecu- 
liarity of fortune, set themselves aside from 
and above their fellow-creatures. Buffalo 
had its ultra fashionables, but their title to 
aristocracy rested upon good clothes and 
genial manners, rather than upon money or 
pursuit. To this rank the teacher in the 
public school, or the woman in business, 
was welcomed as a valuable acquisition 
and an honorary member. But at this time 
the profession of stenography was a new 
departure, an innovation which must be 


Ubc Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 293 

stamped at once with the seal of Buffalo’s 
displeasure. So, like all women who have 
gone out as pioneers in a new field, there 
fell to Catherine’s lot suspicion, and cal- 
umny, and ostracism. Had she chosen an 
older profession, for instance, that of teach- 
ing or clerking, her beauty and. her man- 
ners would have entitled her to a position 
in Buffalo society second to none. 

One day in the early springtime Bitsell 
and Harland sat in their office exchanging 
confidences. They had talked of the story 
which now seemed destined to be spoken 
of only as a thing of the past. They spoke 
of Catherine, her sweet ways, her good sense, 
and her mysterious ability for keeping a fel- 
low at a respectful distance. Bitsell gave his 
partner to understand in pretty plain terms 
that he had means of knowing that the girl 
had, at least, cared more for the junior 
member of the firm than she would be 
willing to acknowledge to that gentleman 
himself. 


294 tTbc Jugsernaut of tbc /Ibobcrno. 

“ / thought so, too, at one time,” Harland 
confided; “ in fact, I could have staked my 
life that she was pretty badly stuck on me. 
Whether she unbent herself just to see 
what a fool she could make of me, or 
whether she found herself so desperately in 
earnest that she wheeled suddenly about and 
retraced her steps, I am not prepared to say. 
Whatever ma}^ have been the motive, she 
has succeeded in making me her willing 
slave for life.” 

He took a small mirror from the upper 
drawer of his desk and looked critically at 
his chin and eyes. 

“ What is the matter with that eye, 
judge?” he asked, pulling down the lower 
lid, and revealing a reddened and swollen 
conjunctiva. 

“Looks like you had been on a jag of 
several days’ duration.” 

“ I haven’t. Got in last night as usual 
at three o’clock, and didn’t get up this 
morning till nine.” 


Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 295 

He put the glass down and hung both 
feet over the far corner of the desk. After 
a time he broke out suddenly: 

“Strange, isn’t it? how quick a fellow 
will become disgusted with a girl when she 
does not prohibit his familiarities, and how 
he will, metaphorically speaking, get down 
on his knees if she don’t allow him any 
privileges. I could love the ugliest girl on 
the face of the earth if she was virtuous, 
while a creature as beautiful as Circe would 
lose her attractions for me if she yielded to 
my importunities. There is nothing so rare 
in the opposite sex, nothing so sought after 
by men, as the priceless pearl of purity.” 

“ What have you given Mrs. Harland in 
return for ^er priceless pearl of purity, 
which she has bestowed upon you?” Bitsell 
muttered gruffly. 

“ Woman is measured by her innocence 
and virtue; man, by his powers and his 
masculinity. It’s rank folly to talk about a 
single standard for the sexes, judge; all his- 


296 Zlbc juggernaut of tbe /Ibobcrns. 

tory, education, and nature are against it. 
One of the prime functions of a husband is 
to keep his wife’s confidence; to make her 
think, whatever other fellows may do, he 
would not be untrue to the trust she has 
placed in him. What a woman don’t know, 
don’t hurt her. It’s what she knows that 
makes her miserable,” answered Harland as 
if his remarks settled the question for all 
time to come. 

“You think Mrs. H. don’t know anything 
about your capers in the past, do you?” 
asked Bitsell. 

“No; she don’t have a very clear idea 
of the real make-up of a man. She is at 
once trusting and jealous in her affections. 
Though by no means a fool, she don’t un- 
derstand how a man may love one woman 
devotedly, and still be untrue to her every 
month in the year. Women can’t under- 
stand these things, and it is well enough 
they should not.” 

Harland was very much mistaken when 


Z\ic juggernaut of tbc ^oDerns. 297 

he thought that his wife did not understand 
his frailties. She knew his weaknesses all 
too well. One year after her marriage she 
had seen the beautiful fabric of her love 
drop, as if moth-eaten, from her hands. 
Had it not been for the birth of her first 
child she would have returned at once to 
the shelter of her father’s home. Then her 
pride and her self-admiration, also, for- 
bade that she should acknowledge to the 
world the failure of her marriage. From 
her disappointment and her wrongs she had 
formulated a code of reasoning something 
like this: 

Men are all made very much after the 
same pattern : her husband was, at any rate, 
no worse than the general run. They were 
built upon a plan quite different from that 
after which femininity is modelled, and it 
would be sacrilege to question the edicts of 
the Almighty. The Bible teaches that the 
inheritance of woman is travail and suffer- 
ing. It makes her a dependant, a subor- 


298 Zbe Juggernaut of tbe /iboOerns. 

dinate, and enjoins upon her patience and 
endurance in expiation of the fall of Eve. 
Through Moses, the great lawgiver of the 
Jews, God Himself sanctioned adultery, 
bigamy, polygamy, and concubinage. What 
was s/ie, that she should dare to lift her one 
weak voice against a system of morals as 
old as the ages ? What could be gained by 
so doing? Would women themselves listen 
to her if she expressed to the world the se- 
cret doubts of her mind and heart ? 

“ There was circumstantial evidence, too, 
on all sides, that women were made to suf- 
fer, in one way or another. Not only her 
experience, but her observation of life had 
taught her that misery is the legacy en- 
tailed on all womankind through the trans- 
gression of the mother of the race. 

‘‘ There are ills in every phase of life 
which we must endure, which we can by 
no means contrive to escape. If she had 
remained single she would have had trouble- 
some things to contend with, perhaps greater 


^bc Juggernaut of tbc /iRoDerns. 299 

than the ills she now bore. If she should 
separate from her husband, there would be 
the struggle with the world alone and sin- 
gle-handed. 

‘'She was his lawful wife; on her side, 
she had both the man and the law. Be- 
sides, the girl who could not take care of 
herself would be the main sufferer. Again, 
men had no respect for women who low- 
ered themselves to their own level, and she 
was not afraid of the woman who should 
yield herself to her husband’s embraces.” 

So two years after her marriage she had 
reasoned herself into a morose and disap- 
pointed dependence, which her husband 
mistook for good sound sense, and a dispo- 
sition to make the most of her surroundings. 


300 


^bc juggernaut of tbe /BboOerns, 


CHAPTER XXL 

It was a sultry clay in the early part of 
June. Since early morning clouds in the west 
had hung black and threatening. The air, 
heavy and silent, had settled into that dead 
calm which sometimes precedes a storm on 
the plains. It was almost time to close the 
office. Catherine, alone in the room which 
had been set aside for her especial use, sat 
by her work absorbed in her own thoughts. 
In the past few months she had changed a 
great deal. Her form had lost its round- 
ness, and her face bore traces of fatigue and 
suffering. It was as if she had grown sud- 
denly much older and sadder. Of late she 
had been stirred again by that hypnotic 
power which once before had penetrated 
the hidden depths of her heart and soul. 
From whatever source the influence came, 
it held her as with a hand of iron. 


Cbc juggernaut of tbe /Bboberno. 


301 


She loved this man, in spite of all the 
past. Though an insurmountable barrier 
lay between them, her life had become 
twined and intertwined with his own, until 
she was as much a part of his being as was 
a branch of his own body. Could life 
always go on in this channel? Must there 
not sometime be an end in some way? 
Suppose that he should place her under the 
stress of another temptation? Suppose it 
should come in this hour of her soul’s des- 
pondency? She questioned now whether 
she had done a courageous thing in not leav- 
ing the office. She doubted whether the 
real test of one’s strength is in standing 
through the heat and thick of the battle. 
There might be times when it was better to 
run away from temptation than to overcome 
it. Her little Bible lay on the desk before 
her. A gust of wind coming in through 
the open window blew the volume open. 
She picked it up and turned to chapter after 
chapter; but she could not read herself into 


302 Zbc Juggernaut of tbc ^oOerns. 

sympathy with the truths. The volume lay 
before her a sealed book. Suddenly she 
threw it down and dropped upon her knees 
before a chair. 

Dear God,” she cried, ‘‘ I stand upon 
sinking sand, which will -soon engulf me if 
Thy hand is not outstretched to save. I can 
no longer trust in my own strength; it is as 
nothing before this unholy love that has 
found lodgement in my wicked heart. Keep 
Thy protecting arm around me, hold me, 
steady me, save me ! ” 

A flickering streak of light, a prolonged 
burst of thunder, and the storm had broken 
with full force upon the city. Outside, there 
was a hurrying of people into stores and 
otbees. Inside, reigned a darkened silence, 
broken only b}^ the clatter of the rain upon 
the buildings. A rolling peal of thunder 
drew her attention from herself. Instinct- 
ively she looked up. Before her stood Har- 
land, his long coat dripping with rain, his 
face wet and streaming. 


Cbc Juflgcrnaut of tbe /ibobcrno. 


303 


“Thank heaven for this!” he said throw- 
inghis stormcoat across a chair and running 
his fingers through his black, glossy hair. As 
he spoke he detected in her face signs of an 
emotion that he had seen there once before. 

“Catherine!” * 

He strode quickly toward her, a slumber- 
ing passion burning in his e3’es. A succes- 
sion of thunderbolts filled the air with light 
and sound. In the fitful glow her face 
stood out white and haggard. 

“You cannot forbid it longer,” he said 
coming nearer. For a moment her form 
swayed and trembled like the saplings out- 
side under pressure of the wind and storm. 
She looked dizzil}’ up into his face. 

“ Have mercy on me! ” she cried, throw- 
ing her hands palms upward toward her 
face. 

He hesitated onl}^ for an instant. Then 
with a supple, tiger-like motion he was at 
her side, holding both her hands in his own. 

“You are mine by every natural tie; 


304 tCbc Juggernaut of tbc /ftoberns. 

nothing in the future can ever keep us apart; 
heaven itself shall not come between us 
again. Ask your own heart if you can ever 
leave me now!” 

His voice fell odd and strange upon her 
ears. Into the moment came crowding the 
joys of a lifetime. She tried to move away, 
but the power of motion seemed to have 
left her. His arms were about her waist, 
his kisses upon her forehead. A drowsy 
languid feeling stole upon her senses. She 
forgot her early training and her prayers, 
she could no longer distinguish between 
right and wrong. 

“We must leave this place at once,” he 
went on, straining her closer to his breast, 
“ and that will take some time. I must 
make provisions for , my family, for those 
that—” 

“Oh, God!” she cried rocking her body 
to and fro, “ I cannot, Harland, I cannot. 
Stop, stop!” 

Outside the rain fell upon the roof making 


^Tbc Juggernaut of tbc ^oberns. 305 

a din like the roar of artillery. As they 
thus stood in each other’s arms, the door 
opened and Harland’s wife, a heavy shawl 
around her shoulders, a black fascinator 
covering her head, stood drenched with the 
rain looking from the face of one to that 
of the other. Catherine sprang from his 
embrace, falling back against the bookcase 
and staring with eyes fixed and stony at the 
woman before her. Everything in the room 
whirled and danced like figures in a kaleido- 
scope. He reached for a chair. His self- 
possession was something desperate. 

“Clara,” he asked, “what under the sun 
has brought you out on an evening like 
this.?” 

She did not seem to hear him. Presently 
she said : 

“ Are you ready to go home with me now, 
Alfred.? It is nearly seven o’clock and the 
‘ Eastern Star ’ meets with us to-night, you 
know. You were late last night, and I 
thought I’d come down and see if I could 


3o 6 Ube Juggernaut of tbe iHbobcrne. 

not get you home in time for supper, this 
evening.” 

Over the sad face of Mrs. Harland set- 
tled a look of meek resignation. Wearily 
pushing the hair back from her temples 
she got up and looked about the room, 
scrutinizing the chairs and lounge. Then 
going to the door of the private office she 
glanced in, and came back again and seated 
herself by the stove. 

“ I shall be ready soon, Clara,” he said, 
bending over the desk so that his face was 
concealed from the eyes of both women. 
“ Miss Huntley, will you finish this dicta- 
tion for me?” he asked without turning 
around. “ Miss Huntley has not been well 
again of late,” he continued calmly; “indeed, 
she is not feeling very well now. The even- 
ing is entirely too bad for her to attempt to 
get home without company.” 

Mrs. Harland looked from her husband 
to the face of the coweringgirl at the book- 
case and sighed. Ah! the utter helpless- 
ness of it all ! 


Zhc juggernaut of tbc ^oOerns. 307 

“ Are you able,” asked Harland of Cath- 
erine, still without looking up, “ to take a 
few letters for me before I go ? ” 

His voice seemed to partially arouse her 
deadened senses. She walked to the desk 
and picked up a pen. She did not under- 
stand his words, she only kept time to the 
sound of his voice. When he had finished 
he put on his mackintosh, and bidding her 
good-night he opened the door for his wife 
to pass out. The rain had not in the least 
abated. It was still coming down in sheets 
and the streets were overrun with water. 
But neither thought of nor cared for the fury 
of the storm. 

When Catherine came out into the open 
street she came staggering like one who 
had been benumbed by some powerful 
opiate. Streams of water gurgling through 
the sandy streets brought to her mind a 
remembrance of the past evening. Slowly 
there found lodgment in her mind an indis- 


3o8 Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /BboDerne. 

tinct recollection of Harland’s face with 
the flashes of light playing upon it, and of 
herself lying in the dust on the floor. She 
looked up at the sky. A full moon obscured 
b}' a mass of floating clouds shone dully 
down upon her. With an effort she dragged 
her limbs along, noting not the direction nor 
the hour of the night. She did not see that 
business was hushed and that midnight was 
near at hand. Just ahead in the darkness 
gleamed the lights of Harland’s home. 
Through the lace drapery she beheld Har- 
land himself entertaining a group of ladies 
with that easy grace of manner which so 
became him. She saw him smile down 
upon the faces before him. Then it all 
came back to her. She stopped faint and 
dizzy. Tears blinded her eyes and her 
head throbbed as from intoxication. A 
group of ladies in passing jostled rudely 
against her. Pulling her veil about her 
face she tried to hasten on. Two ladies 
with locked arms walked leisurely ahead 
talking in low tones. 


XTbc Juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrns. 309 

“ I don’t believe it, Mrs. Smith,” said one 
of the ladies, ‘‘ it’s probably nothing but a 
piece of Western gossip. Some people 
have very little to occupy their time, and 
they will talk. Then there are others who 
are naturally suspicious, and they must give 
voice to their suspicions. Didn’t you notice 
how perfectly devoted he was to his wife ? 
it’s something out of the ordinary. And he 
is always just so, too. How could he have 
room or time for another woman ? Besides, 
Miss Huntley seems such a perfect lady! ” 

Her heart as heavy as lead, Catherine tried 
to pass on, but the heaviness in her side 
retarded her movements. 

“ A man may be a devoted husband and 
still have room for other women,” returned 
the other lady ; “ there is nothing to be 

judged by that. Husbands have been 
known to the world as models of perfection, 
and yet all the time have concealed a skele- 
ton too hideous to talk about. There is not a 
man in town who thinks Catherine Huntley 


310 Zbe Juggernaut of tbe ^oOerns. 

is the girl she pretends to be. There must 
be some fire where there is so much smoke; 
a scandal could not start from nothing and 
grow, as this one has done. A good-look- 
ing girl can lead a man to destruction in 
double quick time if she sets her head that 
way.” 

These words sank into Catherine’s heart 
like poisoned arrows. She flew past the 
speakers, and ran on and on, until she 
reached her own room. A feverish flush 
was on her cheek. Her eyes shone with a 
gleam as hard as steel. All her senses were 
too keenly alive, now. She saw herself as 
others saw her. How pure she had been! 
How hard she had struggled! How earn- 
estly she had prayed! Oh, the long, long, 
bitter nights when she had wrestled with 
her love for Harland; and the world 
believed her guilty! Society already con- 
demned her, and it would take years and 
years to live it down! Hastily throwing 
aside her clothes, she crept into her night- 


Zbc 5ug0crnaut of tbe /BboOcrno. 311 

dress and sank upon the floor at the side of 
the bed. 

Why not give it all up and get what she 
could out of life ? What was the opinion of 
the whole world when weighed in the 
balance with her love for him? Then she 
remembered the innocent face of little 
Dolly, she thought of the baby, and the one 
yet to come. Jumping up, as if a way of 
escape had at last been provided, she reached 
for her purse. It contained sixty dollars; 
that was enough to take her out of reach of 
it all. She could go to Denver or Ogden; 
any place, anywhere, only away from the 
precipice over which she must fall if she 
stayed. Opening her trunk she hurriedly 
packed her valise. That done she opened 
the upper drawer of the dresser, when a 
gleam of something bright brought a mani- 
acal lustre to her eyes. It was a revolver. 
Qiiick as thought she picked it up, rubbed 
its polished barrel, and cocked it. It was 
loaded. Here was another and a better way 


312 Zbc 3 uggcrnaut of tbe /Hbobcrne. 

out of all her troubles. She put the weapon 
to her temple and looked into the barrel. 
Only a pressure of the linger and she could 
leave it all behind. Only an instant of 
pain A quick sound at the window inter- 

rupted her thoughts. She glanced around. 
Harland springing in through the open 
window wrenched the revolver from her 
hand and held her, strained and frightened, 
to his bosom. 

“ Catherine, you were going to kill your- 
self! ” he said. 

“Yes,” she replied doggedly, “I was 
going to kill myself.” 

“ And I love you, Catherine! ” 

“ There is no other alternative.” 

The mad light still gleamed in her eyes. 
Her lips blue and quivering were shut with 
the hardness of despair. He took her in his 
arms and held her fast to his breast. A 
coil of her hair fell streaming over his arm. 
He picked the coil up, his breath coming 
hard and fast, and pressed its tresses again 
and again to his lips. His warm breath 


dbc juggernaut of tbe ^obcrns. 


313 


sent the crimson over her face and drove 
the steely glitter from her eyes. 

“ What — what — she stammered. She 
was going to ask him what people would 
say, if it were known that he had entered 
her room at this hour of the night; but she 
stopped. 

“ Nothing can ever part us again — not 
now!” he whispered. “You will come 
with me to-night. In two hours the train 
leaves for the West and, when morning 
comes, you and I will have left the world 
behind us. 1 shall leave everything to my 
wife and family. We will give it all up, 
darling, and begin as if the past had never 
been. It will be better for you, better for 
me, and it will be a kindness to her.” 

He did not know what he was saying. 
For weeks and months he had been allowed 
only to look at her. Now he was alone 
with her in her own room at midnight, and 
she lay in his arms in her clinging gown of 
white, the passionate beatings of her warm 
heart keeping time with his own. 


314 


tTbe Juggernaut of tbe jflbobcrns. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Dakota, that land famed for the loose- 
ness of its laws, has long been a hiding-place 
for those who would defy the mandates of 
society. At the town of Hot Springs, the 
Carlsbad of the Hills, Harland, loute for 
the Pacific Coast, had stopped until he could 
make some distribution of his property. In 
the three days that had passed he had given 
himself up wholly to the sensuous enjoy- 
ment of the present. Intoxicated with the 
joys of possession, he had not yet looked 
back upon the past, nor given any well 
defined thought to the future. But, this 
evening, as he wandered out alone in the 
park, whose paths wound in and out around 
the sides of a huge hill overhanging the 
rippling waters of the Minnekahta, his past 


ttbe Juggernaut of tbc ^oberns. 315 

life rose up before him with the distinctness 
of a panorama. He walked on past rocks 
supporting pines and hemlocks, and threw 
himself down upon a rustic seat carved in a 
bend of the hill. Day was just merging 
into twilight. Down below lay the Min- 
nekahta, fresh and bubbling from its circuit- 
ous route among the mountains. He could 
hear the gurgle of the waters and see the 
river-bed lined with sparkling stones and 
mosses. In the west great streaks of gold 
and amethyst flamed up from the horizon. 

But his thoughts lingered not upon the 
beauty of the hills, nor upon the splendor 
of the sunset. He was wondering if Buffalo 
had yet heard of his flight; if the town was 
by this time in a ferment of sensation; if 
the blow would break his wife’s heart; if, 
in the years to come, she would teach her 
children to despise and curse their father’s 
name. Then he thought of the woman he 
had once loved and shielded, who had borne 
his name and his children, struggling alone, 


3i6 Z\ic 5ug0crnaut of tbc /BboDcrns. 

contending with all the cruelties which the 
world has for one who must take her place 
by the side of men. After all, she had been 
a good wife, much better than the average 
woman. She had ministered to his com- 
forts and cared for his home, though she had 
never made his life what it should have been. 
She was the mother of his children, the 
mother of John and Ted, Bessie and Dolly, 
little Dolly with her long curls and her 
baby face; then, besides, she was a mother 
who would bring up her children in the 
ways of truth and honor. Whatever were 
her faults as a wife, she excelled in the 
qualities which made her a true woman and 
devoted mother. Now, the very passivity 
which from the first year of his marriage 
had irritated and disappointed him, attested 
her unswerving honor and fidelity. 

He thought of the passionate, loving 
nature of the girl who had thrilled and 
enamored his senses. What a fool she had 
been to yield to his importunities! What 


XLbc juggernaut of tbc Moderns. 317 

assurance had he that, when the romance of 
her love had given place to the prosaic 
round of every-day existence, she would not 
grant to others the same privilege that she 
had given to him? Though he had found 
in her all he had desired in the wildest 
flights of his imagination, he could never in 
the future accord to her the same trust that 
he had placed in the woman he had married. 
Besides, there must be some law which 
would operate by way of compensation in 
bringing back upon his own head the misery 
he had brought to others. In all his experi- 
ences in life he had committed no wrong, 
however trivial, that did not sooner or later 
come home to him with added force and 
vengeance. It would only be just and right, 
and he could expect nothing else. But 
could he not, even yet, return to his family, 
if he chose to explain that he had been 
called away upon a matter of importance to 
the Hills? Who could prove that he 
intended to desert his wife? There would 


3i8 Zbe juggernaut of tbc /iboOerno. 

follow, as a matter of course, the usual nine 
days’ excitement; but it would all blow 
over and the whole episode, so far as he 
was concerned, would soon be forgotten. 
Then there were his business relations, the 
start that he had already got in the world; 
these would all go for naught, and he must 
begin again at the very bottom of the lad- 
der. Worse than that, he must begin under 
the reproach of society, under the ban of 
his own conscience. He might change his 
name; but there was no place, in all the 
world, where he could go without fear of 
meeting those who had either known or 
heard of him. He threw his hat upon the 
ground and leaned back against the trunk 
of a tree. 

“ ’Arland,” said a voice close by his ear. 
He started and, looking up, encountered 
the face of the Rev. Mr. Cheeseberry, dark 
and stern, glowering down into his own. 

“Cheeseberry!” he cried, jumping up in 
astonishment, “ what are you doing here.^” 


^Tbe Jugflcrnaut of tbe /Iboberns. 319 

“ I’ve come to save you, my brother, to 
save you,” cried the minister, making an 
emphatic gesture with both hands, “ to save 
3’ou ’ere and ’ereafter. Don’t get hex- 
cited; come, come now. Brother ’Arland, 
I was hexpecting something of the kind to 
’appen hall halong, but I never supposed it 
’d take such a turn as this. I didn’t, I swear 
I didn’t. I thought you ’ad more sense than 
this!” 

The minister grasped him firml}^ b}' the 
shoulder and pushed him back against the 
tree. Harland cowered like a guilt}’ child, 
but maintained a dogged silence. 

“ It’s not necessary, my brother,” Cheese- 
berry resumed, “for a man to make such a 
break as you ’ave made; there’s no call, no 
hexcuse whatever. Society is constructed 
so that it gives to the man the hutmost lib- 
erty of haction in such cases, and ’e who 
would wantonly throw away his ’ome, ’is 
’ard hearnings, ’is prospects for life for the 
sake of a pair of plump harms and a slender 


320 


XLbc ^ug^ernaut of tbc /Hboberne. 


waist is nothing short of a fool. A fool, 
I say, and you know I’m telling you God’s 
truth.” 

“ The die is cast,” returned Harland. 
“ Don’t talk to me about what a fool, what 
a coiisuimnate fool, I have made of myself! 
By heaven, don’t I understand it all too 
well? I must take the results of my folly, 
and I shall simply have to brace up and take 
them like a man.” 

“No, sir. Brother ’Arland; ‘brace hup 
and take them like a man’! Never; I shall 
not leave this place huntil I ’ave convinced 
you of your duty, until I get you once 
more in the straight and narrow way. Do 
you hunderstand me, sir? I shall never leave 
this town huntil ” 

“What will become of her? Think of 
what she has given up ! Think of what I 
owe her,” interrupted Harland. 

Cheeseberry laughed discordantly. 

“ What is that hobligation compared with 
the one you howe your lawful wife, her 


XLbe Juggernaut of tbc flboDerns. 321 

whose life God has joined to your hown 
and forbidden that hany should put you 
hasunder? You can leave the girl money 
henough to get through hany difficulty 
which may come of this, and she’ll get 
halong as they hall do, brother. Don’t 
think you must wreck the lives of many to 
right a wrong that you can get hout of by 
’arming no one but the girl. Halready inyour 
’eart you regret the folly of this step; I can 
see it in 3'Our face, read it hin your ’ole 
hattitude. You hare not ’appy now, and you 
never will be, though you ma^' live to be 
has hold as Methuselah.” 

Harland sank down upon the bench and 
leaned his head on his hands. 

‘‘Great God! ” he groaned. 

“ Yes, 3’ou hare not ’appy heven now. 
Brother ’Arland, and this is honl}' a fore- 
taste,” went on the minister sitting down by 
his side. “ ’ Appiness can never come through 
a channel which brings pain hand wrong to 
bothers. Think of the life hin the world 


322 


Tlbc Juggernaut of tbe /Iboberns, 


to come, what your reward will be, hif you 
don’t turn your back against it hall and 
hask the good Lord to forgive you for the 
crime you would commit not honly against 
your ’ome, but hagainst society and hagainst 
’eaven. Though you ’ave halready broken 
’is commandments, yet ’e ’as said ’e will for- 
give seventy times seven, ay, seventy times 
seven, brother, hand thank the Lord for 
that blessed promise to ’is herring souls 
below.” 

Harland’s mind, rendered perceptive by 
his previous train of thought, readily 
absorbed the import of his pastor’s words. 
He crouched down into the seat and bent 
his head still lower over his knees. His 
entire expression was one of utter dejection 
and remorse. He got up, his face haggard, 
and his eyes sunken and hollow. 

“ Oh, God!” he moaned, ‘‘ if some scien- 
tist would only discover a remedy by which 
man could stifle his passions, a nepenthe 
which would lull forever this demon of 


^Tbc juggernaut of tbe /Bbobcrne. 323 

desire within us. Oh, think of it! Ruined, 
deserted, alone. I cannot, Cheeseberry, I 
cannot! ” 

Cheeseberry looked at his watch. 

“ The train will be due in ’alf-an-’our,” 
he said, “ and you must board that train in 
company with me. You are delirious, 
delirious, I tell you; hinsane, wild has a 
lunatic, and not to be ’eld responsible for 
hanything you may do or say.” 

Harland moved as if he were trying to 
escape from the clutch of his companion. 

“ I must see her first. Let me alone; let 
me alone, by heaven ! ” he exclaimed. 

“No, you will not see ’er hagain, you 
will come with me. You hare blind, blind 
has a bat, and the scales will only fall from 
your heyes when it is heverlastingly too late 
to repent hand undo the ’arm you would do 
to those who love and trust you. Go on in 
the course you ’ave taken, and sooner or 
later you will wake hup to find yourself 
grasping only a ’andful of dry hashes falling 


324 tlbe 5 uflscrnaut ot tbc ^oberna. 

through your fingers. It’s hall the doings 
of the devil ’imself: ’e’s tempting you to see 
what stuff you hare made of. Man, man, 
do you think she will not give to hanother 
hall she has given you ? Do you think that 
a woman who could take from ’is family — ” 

“Stop, stop,” shrieked Harland, “ I will 
not listen to you! ” 

But the words had gone straight where 
Cheeseberry had intended. They photo- 
graphed his own secret distrust, which had 
from the evening of their flight been creep- 
ing into his heart. 

“You know I’m telling you the gospel 
truth. Brother ’Arland; that still small voice 
within ’as spoken to you and condemned 
you halready. Leave it with me, hall with 
me, hand I can get you hout of it so none 
need hever be the wiser. Bitsell hand I ’ave 
taken hall the precautions necessary to give 
a satisfactory hexplanation of your habsence. 
Will you go hon to a life of hisolation and 
remorse, or will you come back to ’ome 


Zbc ^ugflcrnaut of tbe /Bbobcrns. 325 

and ’onor before hit is forever too late?” 

“I was beside myself,” cried Harland, 
“ and I am beside myself even now. Do 

what you will But — but — what will 

become of herf'‘'‘ 

“ She must take the consequences of ’er 
hown foolish doings. There his an himmu- 
table law, has fixed has the universe, which 
compels the woman who steps haside from 
the path hof virtue to pay a fearful penalty. 
She must take the punishment which ’er 
guilt hentails, and may the Lord ’ave 
mercy hon ’er — only ’e will! You must do 
what’s right by ’er, hof course. She’ll 
never make hany trouble for you; if she 
does, public hopinion will be hagainst ’er, 
you know. But there’s no danger of ’er 
hever doing hanything that you will not 
’ave a chance to protect yourself from.” 

“Oh, heavens ! If I onl}' had the cour- 
age to put a bullet' through my heart, 
Cheeseberry, dog and knave that I am ! I 
am not fit to live, and I am not prepared to 


326 Zbc Juggernaut ot tbc /Bbobcrns, 

die. Surely, if there is any such a thing as 
hell and eternal damnation, it will fall to 
my lot as my rightful and natural inheri- 
tance.” 

By the light of the incandescent globes 
swinging from the ledges of the hill his 
face looked lined and seamed as if from 
years of sorrow and remorse. Cheeseberry 
laid his hand softly on his shoulder : 

“ ’As not our ’eavenly Father promised 
hus that ’e will pardon hall sins hexcept the 
sin hagainst the ’oly Ghost ? Brother 
’Arland, I ham ’ere to tell you that prayer 
and repentance, hand the Blood of Christ, 
can wash the most sin-soiled soul huntil hit 
is has white has the driven snow. Look to 
the Saviour hof the world, ’e ’olds hout to 
hall the ’ope of pardon and peace, that 
peace which passeth hunderstanding.” 

The shriek of an engine, a rumbling in 
the distant hills, and the evening train rolled 
out from the mountains, panting and puff- 
ing like an iron monster endowed with the 
power of breath and motion. 


(Tbe 3u0gcrnaut of tbc fD^obcrns. 327 

“ Come,” whispered Cheeseberry, taking 
his companion’s arm closely in his own. 

They walked down through the shrubs 
and pines in silence till they reached the 
little sandstone depot just across the Min- 
nekahta. Still in silence the two men en- 
tered the train, one happy in the belief that 
he had saved a soul from the wrath to 
come, the other crushed by memories 
which will haunt him as long as life shall 
last. 


THE END. 






















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